2859: Triple Threat
by Halfrobotchicken
Summary: Brittany and Santana are welcoming a new addition, but Santana isn't so welcoming of the additional company that comes with it. Five-shot.
1. Chapter 1

"I'm very patient," Brittany said sternly as she poised herself for a standoff of the stare down variety. She was in the middle of yet another epic battle of endurance. It seemed like she'd been having this same argument every single day for the last few weeks. She crossed her arms over her chest resolutely, waiting for her opponent's next move.

She winced when it came in the form of a shout, "Nooo!"

Brittany rubbed her temples in frustration. "You have to," she said with authority while holding up a t-shirt with a green dinosaur. "It's a T-Rex!"

And yes, it did cross her mind for a split second that she never in her life thought she'd be shouting that as an arguing point.

The pair of brown eyes that were staring into hers belonged to one of the most stubborn people she'd ever met. A trait that undoubtedly came from his other mother. The little boy shook his head vigorously at the suggestion and said with all the conviction a three year old could muster, "No di-sore!"

"Max," Brittany placed a hand on her hip. "You have to wear clothes, buddy."

"No di-sore, Mommy," he told her again. "I don't like him."

Max's new aversion to fabrics was driving her insane. It had been going on for a few weeks now, and it made getting him ready to go anywhere take double the time it normally would. As soon as Brittany turned her back, he would shed his clothes. Brittany knew the getting naked thing was probably a trait he picked up from her, but he was every bit as sneaky as Santana.

Speaking of, Brittany glimpsed her wife just as she arrived at the doorway of Max's room. With one look at the two of them, Santana knew what was up. She asked her son anyway, "So, what's all this about?"

"Same thing as usual," Brittany answered for him.

"The streaker?"

"Yep."

"What's wrong with your dinosaur shirt, Mad Max?" Santana asked. "You love T-Rex."

Now, he was in a pickle. See, his Mommy was all bubbles and sunshine, but his Momma was not nearly as easy. Especially not lately. No, Momma would make him put on that dinosaur shirt.

"We're not running a nudist colony here," Santana said. "This is not a clothing optional establishment."

When Brittany shot her a quick smirk, she quickly amended the statement. "_This_ part of the house is not a clothing optional establishment."

Max, of course, was not moved. In fact, he didn't budge at all.

"Max," Santana said with her mom glare.

"No di-sore," he said weakly, knowing the game was almost up. He looked up at Santana through his dark lashes, hoping his sad puppy dog eyes would grant him a pardon.

"Okay," the brunette shrugged. "You want to spice up your wardrobe, I get it. What other options do we have, Mommy?"

Brittany reached blindly back into a drawer and pulled out another t-shirt. She took a look at it, "You want to wear the Littlest Jets Fan shirt?"

Max looked like he could be open to the idea.

"I think that's a great choice," Santana encouraged. "Shows your support, gives you some New York mystique, plus it's a great conversation starter for all the other rugrats."

"Don't say rugrats," Brittany whisper yelled. "He'll repeat that then we'll have parents calling us..."

"I call 'em like I see 'em," Santana responded. "What do you say, Max? Go Jets Go?"

He was teetering on the edge when Santana sweetened the deal. "Put on the shirt and you can have a cookie."

With the mention of a cookie, the boy's defiance melted away, "'K."

"Santana," Brittany huffed.

"What?" the brunette answered. "Problem solved. You wanted clothes on the kid. He wanted a cookie. I want some peace. Everybody wins."

"You can't bribe him with a cookie every time you want him to do something," Brittany said as she pulled the Jets shirt over Max's head.

He emerged with a huge smile on his face. As soon as his arms shot through the sleeves, he looked up to his other mom. "Chockit Chip!"

"Of course," Santana answered him and placed her hand on his head to steer him out of the room. "I know that," she said to her wife. "But I'll adapt as he gets older. I'm fully prepared to hand over gaming consoles, and expensive sneakers, and...and...bottle rockets."

"Who said anything about bottle rockets?"

"I have no idea what boys are into," Santana said.

"We're not giving him bottle rockets," Brittany told her without any room for negotiating. "And I meant the bribing, not the cookie."

Santana scoffed, "Well now you're just questioning my entire parenting philosophy."

After just a few steps down the hallway, Santana stopped abruptly and leaned against a nearby wall. She took a deep breath before ruffling her son's hair and telling him, "Alright, Max, go ahead. I'll be there in just a minute."

Brittany took an immediate step toward her that Santana waved off. The blonde gave her wife a questioning look. "You okay?"

"Fine," she answered in a tone that sounded anything but fine.

Brittany followed her eyes to Max, who was looking on curiously.

"Okay, Maximus," Brittany scooped up their son and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Better go claim your seat."

They both watched him run off toward the kitchen, no doubt climbing up in his chair to wait patiently for his treat. Okay, more like using Prince Rufferford, the family Golden Retriever, as a step stool to get it himself. That dog could be charged as an accomplice to many cookie thefts as of late. The thought crossed Santana's mind just as Max was rounding the corner.

"Ruffles is not a ladder!"

"Is it time?" Brittany asked impatiently. "Should we go?"

"No, no."

"Is something wrong?" Brittany was starting to get concerned. "Do you need help?"

"I'm really fine," Santana countered as she rubbed her belly. "I'm pregnant, not an invalid."

"Are you sure?"

"Britt, I'm not in labor," Santana chuckled a bit. "I just needed to take a break. My feet are killing me."

Brittany visibly relaxed, "Okay."

"I feel like a beached whale," Santana pointed her big belly, " and this one must be a dancer like her mommy, because BayLo's going crazy in there today."

The corners of Brittany's mouth immediately curled upwards as she put her hands on Santana's stomach. "You think?"

Santana watched her wife's face light up with the possibility, "Yeah." When Brittany looked at her, she winked.

"That would be cool," the blonde said. "I mean, if that's what she wanted."

"No pressure," Santana spoke to her stomach. "You can be whatever you want."

"Absolutely!" Brittany agreed. "But if you want to dance, I can totally arrange that."

"You are going to be so amazing with our daughter," Santana replied dreamily. "You're such an awesome mom, Britt."

"We're both kinda awesome."

"We are," Santana said as she pushed off the wall. "Moms of the Year. I wonder if we could get Max to introduce us like that."

"I'm sure we could," Brittany said. She helped Santana get steady. "Just give him a cookie and he's putty in our hands."

After the eye-rolling and loud sigh, Santana finally continued toward the kitchen. "I kind of hate you right now. I mean, I love you...but also hate you a little."

"And why is that?" Brittany asked taking Santana's elbow.

"Tell me how it is that you got through this bouncing around like Baby Carrying Barbie? You were like fu-uh," Santana paused and took a quick look around to check for little ears, "freaking knocked up Cinderella and I feel like you could literally roll me room to room?"

"Honey-" Brittany started.

"Seriously, just butter me, I'll slide right through all the doors."

"San-"

"I'm like a blimp. A guy on the street made beeping noises at me last week. Somebody asked me yesterday if I was having multiples," Santana claimed dramatically. "I told them I was having multiple orgasms with their mom."

"You didn't!"

"Yeah I did...but the lady was like 80, so the chances of her mom even still kicking is slim to none."

"I'm sorry," Brittany said sincerely as she rubbed her wife's back. Her hand trailed down Santana's arm and eventually tangled with her pinky. "I think you look amazing hauling around our daughter."

"U-Haulin'."

"Beautiful," Brittany insisted.

"You have to say that," Santana said. "It's like a law. You have to say I look beautiful pregnant or you're just the worst wife ever."

"I believe it."

"I'm suspicious," the brunette gave her the side-eye.

Brittany ignored it, "You are easily the hottest pregnant chick I've ever seen. Hotter than...let's just leave it at that. The smokingest oven ever."

When they entered the kitchen, Max was waiting at the table. Santana looked around for any evidence of foul play.

"So chocolate chip, right?" she asked.

"Pweeeeze!" Max said with a toothy grin. His little feet were swinging in anticipation. Of course, they were swinging right into Ruffles, his loyal companion, who was parked right under the chair.

Santana went directly to the cookie jar and pulled out two cookies. She took one to Max, but just before handing it off, she bent down. "Kiss first," she demanded.

The boy gave her a sloppy smooch on her cheek before happily accepting his goodie. The second one she offered to Brittany with the same deal.

"Okay," Santana said as she uncomfortably plopped into her chair at the kitchen table, "since we're all here-"

"Lola!" Brittany said before she even got the chance to finish.

"Nooo," Santana shot her down. "For the millionth time, we're not naming her Lola."

"I'm still very pro-Lola."

"I understand that, but-"

"San," Brittany swallowed a bite of her cookie, "what do you have against Lola?"

"Lola Lopez?"

"And?"

"Her name was Lola, she was a showgirl," Santana said. "That should be enough."

"I think it's cute."

"I think we'd be setting her up for the -," Santana lowered her voice purposely, "p. o. r. n. industry."

"Max," Brittany tapped on his arm, "do you like Lola?"

Max nodded yes.

"Max," Santana addressed him, "do you think we should name the baby Chorophobia?"

Max took another cookie bite and wiped his mouth with his arm. It left a little chocolate smear, that he promptly licked. He looked at his momma and gave her an earnest nod to this suggestion also.

"There you have it," Santana said. "Our son is a baby-naming genius."

"You got Max," Brittany said. "You said I got to name the next one."

"We both named Max." Santana leaned over and pinched off just a bit of cookie. "His middle name is Everett, just like you wanted."

"After the mountain," Brittany smiled.

"Yep," Santana didn't have the heart to tell her any different and she threatened to kill anyone who might. "And who named Ruffles?"

"Ruffles doesn't count," Brittany argued.

"He's a certified member of this family, Britt," Santana stated. "And honestly, I didn't think there would be a next one when I made that deal."

"But you did," Brittany argued. "And I like Lola. You already vetoed Baby."

"Brittany, we cannot have a child named Baby. It's adorable while's she in there, but there's no way I could put Baby in the corner and keep a straight face."

"But...BayLo."

A loud purr cut off the conversation when Lord Tubbington saw the family eating without him. After years of slimming down, his diet had been all but abandoned when Santana started to put on the baby weight. He was slowly, but surely, replumping to his former massive splendor. Brittany swore it was because he was gaining sympathy pounds. Santana knew it was because Brittany was slipping him extra kibble.

Santana started to wiggle to the front of her seat with the intention of getting him a kitty treat.

"What are you doing?" Brittany asked as she shot up to go help.

"Indulging him," Santana answered. "He'll be back on his portion controlled routine soon enough."

"You stay put, I'll get it."

"Okay," Santana agreed easily. As Brittany turned away to go grab the treat, she reached across and pinched off some more of the cookie she had left on the table. She looked at Max with her finger to her lips.

He laughed at his momma's antics. He always did.

"What's so funny over there?" Brittany asked returning from the cabinet. She threw Lord Tubbington his treat, but warned him. "Enjoy it Tubbs, there's very few left where that came from."

Tubbs seemed to get the hint and gave them all a disgusted meow preemptively before taking off with his chewy salmon flavored bite.

"We're not doing anything," Santana promised.

"Uh huh," Brittany didn't buy it. She walked back over the table, pausing to give Max a kiss on the top of his head. "So, let's hear your suggestion then?"

"Max's? Or mine?" Santana pointed to herself. "Because Max wants Tywunosore...wait, that was yesterday. Do we still not like T-Rex?"

"Tywunosore Wex," it seems he had made peace with his nemesis from fifteen minutes ago.

"See," Santana gestured toward the boy with her head. "Baby-naming genius. I, personally, think we should call her Wex."

"Not even here yet and you're already trying to figure out ways to torture her for life," Brittany said to Max. "You're going to be really good at this big brother stuff."

"He'll be a pro," Santana agreed. "He has the shirt and everything."

"If only we can get it stay on his body for more than two seconds."

"C.o.o.k.i.e."

#####

"Okay," Brittany was running through the mental checklist in her head. "We have everything we need?"

Santana was watching Brittany run through the checklist while leaning against the front door, one hand on her belly. "I think we're set."

"Alright, Maximus," Brittany picked up the little boy and his Tonka truck. "Ready to hang out with Manny for a little while?"

"Uh huh," he agreed easily. He was way more interested in driving his truck over his Mommy's boobs than whatever else was happening anyway.

"Did you call him?" Santana asked Brittany as she waddled to put the security code in.

"Yeah," Brittany answered. "He's meeting us at the park."

"Good."

"I also told him to come by sometime this week."

Santana looked over to her wife with her nose scrunched in question, "Why? We don't need him this week."

"Because we need to discuss his pay raise."

"Oh," Santana rolled her eyes.

"San," Brittany caught it. "Two kids. More money."

"I don't see why we need to discuss it immediately," Santana said. "Can't we talk about it later?"

"I'd rather have it set before she gets here." The blonde pointed with her free hand to Santana's pregnant stomach with the reference. "Have it squared away and all."

"Maybe I won't want to go back to work, though," Santana uttered quietly. "Maybe I'll just stay at home with the kids. Be your housewifey. Cook your dinner. Iron your clothes."

"Have you ever ironed anything?" Brittany asked.

"Do we own an iron?" Santana wondered aloud. "I have steamers for that."

"It would be kind of..." Brittany looked at Max who was preoccupied with running his truck over her shoulder with a 'voom', "s.e.x.y."

"For all of two weeks," Santana responded, not really believing that.

Brittany gave her wife the familiar up and down, "Oh, I think I could get used to you waiting for me by the door...with dinner...and shirts that have a huge iron-shaped burn on them...oh yeah."

Even after being married for nearly five years, Santana still got a little flustered by her wife sometimes. "Stop staring at me. I can't remember the alarm code."

"Two. Eight. Five. Nine," Brittany recited. She took a look at her watch, "Come on housewifey, we have an appointment to make."

"What do you think?" Santana asked as she punched in the numbers.

"About what?"

"I'm really asking," the brunette said. "Me. Here. With the kids."

"I think...that's..."

"What?" Santana asked.

"Where is this coming from?" Brittany avoided that question. She readjusted Max and let Santana pass out the front door. "You've never mentioned wanting to stay home before."

"I never really thought about it until recently," Santana disclosed.

"Well..." The blonde hopped down the front steps quickly and placed Max on his feet. "Statue, buddy." She then climbed them again two at a time, so she could help her wife. "I guess if you wanted to-"

"It's just that," Santana took each step carefully. "With you working so much now-"

"After this campaign, it will slow back down," Brittany interjected.

"I know, I know, but then something else will pop up."

"Doesn't mean I have to be as involved."

Santana caught her eyes as they reached the sidewalk. "But you will be, because you're the best. And you love it."

"I love you and Max," Brittany said convincingly. "And Baby Lopez in there. I'm going to do whatever is best for my family, Santana."

"I just..."

"Don't want our kids to be raised by Manny the manny because we work all the time," the blonde finished. "I know."

"Yeah," Santana nodded.

"Yeah?"

Brittany took her wife's face in her hands and brought her closer for a kiss, "We'll figure it out," she whispered. "Un-statue, Max," she said to the little guy.

After she ran back up the steps to grab their bags and Max's backpack, she stopped to enjoy the visual of Santana waddling to the car clutching their son's little hand in hers. They were obviously discussing something hilarious as Santana laughed loudly and Max skipped a little in happiness. She seriously had the most gorgeous family in the world.

"Wait for me," she yelled to them before jogging to catch up.

#####

"Kendra Giardi." A nurse in pink scrubs called. "Come on back," she motioned for the way less pregnant woman that answered to the name.

Santana watched her for a second, "Do we know her?"

A glance is all it took for Brittany to decide, "Nope."

"Hm."

"Did I tell you about the dream I had last night?"

"No," Santana flipped another page in her Procreating Like Boss magazine. "Another wild sex dream about yours truly?"

"Not this time," Brittany answered from her Parenting for Dummies book.

"Whoa!" Santana snapped up from her reading material. "You're not dreaming about," she motioned her belly with two hands, "all this."

"Is this a trick question? Because last time you asked a question like this, it ended with my toothbrush in the toilet."

"And I've apologized for that particularly hormonal day several times, Britt Britt," Santana said calmly. "At some point, you have to move on from that incident."

"Can I just tell you about my dream?"

Santana mulled it over, "Yeah."

"Okay, apparently we were stuck in some weird alternate universe where you were in New York with Rachel and Kurt and I'm still here..."

"So, before we met?"

"No, we were together," Brittany paused to think, "then kinda broke up...I guess. But, it was confusing because we kept breaking up...over and over again...only in different clothes. One of those times seemed suspiciously like the 50s."

"That's odd."

"The break ups or the time period? I'm sure it was the 50s, I've been watching The History Channel."

"All of it," Santana chuckled. "But c'mon, Britt. Like we would ever break up. Why would that even happen?"

"I know, right?" Brittany laughed. "It was just strange. And vivid. You turned into some crazy coke head who was rifling through drawers to find money for drugs and I was eating garbage off the floor and had all these delusional theories about the world ending."

"I am pretty great at snoo- uh...investigating, and you did eat that grape that slipped out of your hand last night."

"You saw that?"

"Three second rule."

"I washed it."

"I'm not judging you."

"It was the last one."

"I'd say we have enough of an explanation for the dream."

"Yeah, but," the blonde stopped and snorted. "I'm pretty sure I had some kind of relationship with Sam."

This made Santana do a full blown belly laugh. A couple of the other couples in the waiting room even turned to look. "Sam?!" Santana asked.

"I knew you'd enjoy that," Brittany returned to her book.

"You and Sam, huh?" Santana shook her head. "I think the only word that properly describes that is 'squick.'"

"Accurate."

"Besides," Santana winked. "That dopey moron could never land you."

"Aww," Brittany wrapped her pinky around Santana's. "That's sweet."

Santana flipped another page before looking over in Britt's direction again. "I'm sweet...sometimes."

"You can be," Brittany said.

"Santana Lopez?" Another pink scrubbed nurse called out.

After an hour and all the usual testing, poking, and prodding, Santana and Brittany were enjoying the sweet sounds of their daughter's heartbeat.

"She sounds like a dancer," Brittany announced.

Dr. Tibideaux looked at her out of the corner of her eye.

"And you can tell just by her heartbeat?" Santana chuckled.

"Yep. Everything's normal, right?" Brittany asked Dr. Tibideaux.

"Everything looks great," the obstetrician assured them both. "She looks normal and healthy. Right on track for delivery."

"And it's springtime," Brittany winked at Santana. "No better time to give birth."

"I like her," Santana said absent-mindedly on their way across the parking lot. "Dr. Tibideaux."

Brittany smirked, "Of course, you do."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"What?" Santana said with an irksome quality. "I can't like her? She's the only other lady that's allowed in my No No Square."

"Don't start with that again," Brittany said with a wave of her finger. "And if you don't stop trying to teach Max that song-"

"That's for his own good."

"There's more delicate ways to handle that."

"Fine, I'll stop," Santana gave in. She shuffled a bit further before asking, "So, are you going to clue me in?"

"Dr. Tibideaux is a lesbian, Santana." Upon reaching their car, Brittany opened the door for her wife. "That's why you like her."

Santana's eyebrows furrowed, "What?"

"Total lezzie," Brittany said with conviction. He held onto Santana's arms, while the other lady sort of fell backward into the seat.

"Nuh uh."

Brittany helped her swing her legs in, "Oh my god, honey. She's gayer than a flagpole." When Santana looked confused, she added, "At half-mast. Duh."

#####

A little while later, after collecting Max from Manny the manny, the Pierce/Lopez family was turning into their driveway. Brittany was a bit surprised when she recognized a familiar car parked in her spot. "James is early," she said to Santana.

"Yeah..." Santana acknowledged, already looking concerned.

Brittany's little sister, Jamie, was already to their car before Brittany had shut off the engine.

"Well, if it isn't Skipper," Santana greeted her.

"Diabla," Jamie shot back. "Is that a pitchfork in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

"Hey," Brittany said, trying to head off the usual round of barbs. "We weren't expecting you yet."

"Yeah," Jamie answered as she opened the back door and started to unbuckle Max. "Who's this handsome guy?" she said to the smiling kid.

"It's me, Max!" he squealed at the sight of one of his favorite people.

"Well, hi me-Max."

"Hi Anny Jamie!"

Jamie immediately put him up on her shoulders and bounced a couple times.

"Careful!" both Brittany and Santana said at the same time.

"Geez, Moms, he's fine," Jamie groaned, but she pulled the boy off her shoulders anyway. She ran her knuckles over his head and told him, "They'd put you in bubblewrap if they could find corresponding accessories."

Max wasn't paying any attention, though. It was of much more importance to make sure he got his Tonka truck out of the car. He really hated when his toys got trapped in the car for the night.

"So?" Santana asked. "What do we owe the pleasure of your early arrival?"

Jamie bypassed the question when she got a good look at her pregnant sister-in-law, "Damn! You blew up in the last few weeks, didn't you? Is there just one in there or did they Octomom you?"

"James!" Brittany warned.

"I'm not saying it's bad," Jamie quickly backtracked. "You look great."

Santana just glared.

"Really," Jamie went on. "I can practically feel your glow. Or is that the heat from the hellfires?"

"Why are you here?" Santana asked bluntly.

"You asked me to be here," Jamie reminded them.

"Now, Jamie? Why are you here now?"

Jamie scratched at her face, "Well..."

Brittany and Santana exchanged looks.

"Well?" Brittany asked.

"I know you said you didn't want this time to be like last time."

"Which is why we were very adamant about having just you here until the baby was settled in," Santana said. "Though looking back on that decision..."

"Yeee-ahhh..."

"What did you do?" Brittany asked.

"I didn't do anything!" Jamie insisted. "But Mom and Dad weren't exactly down with missing it after I mentioned that I was coming."

"So your parents will be here," Santana said to Brittany. "Okay."

"Then they sort of..." Jamie took a step back, "called your parents."

"Okay..." Santana let out a breath. Brittany eased ever so subtly in between them.

"And...well...emails were exchanged and..." Jamie took another step backward. "It seemed the quickest and easiest way to get everybody here was for Rachel to fly them over on her jet."

Santana's eyes snapped to Jamie's.

"So, Mom and Dad...and your parents... and Abuela...and," Jamie grabbed Max for protection, "Rachel and Kurt will be here tomorrow."

"Imma kill you."

#####

"She's not really going to kill me, is she?" Jamie asked Brittany as the two sisters lay in the floor of Max's room staring at the stars that Brittany had strategically placed to resemble different constellations.

"Of course not," Brittany brought her Pringles telescope away from her eye just enough to turn her head. "You know by now that she's all bark, very little bite."

"I don't know, she had a fire in her eyes that I've rarely seen before."

"It's just baby stress, James," Brittany assured. "She's not going to actually kill you."

Max, who was between them, also pulled his Pringles telescope away, "Anny Jamie, you can use Momma's tellscope."

"That's a great idea, buddy," Brittany said to him. "Can you go get it?"

"Uh huh," he said handing off his own to his Mommy. "BRB."

When Max scurried over to his toy chest, Jamie asked, "BRB?"

"Be right back."

"Yeah, I know what it means," Jamie said. "Why do you have your kid saying it?"

"Because that's what Santana says to him when she leaves for work," Brittany laughed. "And he also thinks BYOB is bring your own banana. Don't tell him any different."

"Gotcha."

The little boy returned in no time with another Pringles telescope, this one red. "Here you go."

"Thanks Max," Jamie said to him.

"R'welcome."

"Manners," Jamie replied. "You have them."

"Yeah, and if you like that, you should check this out." Brittany was always ready to show off her kid's superior intelligence. "Max," she pointed to a particular group of stars, "What's that one?"

"Big dippy," he answered immediately.

"And that one?"

"Lil dippy."

"Wow," Jamie was impressed. "Good job, Max."

"Yep," Brittany nudged him softly. "Great job, buddy. Now Aunt Jamie wants to hear you count to 20."

Max, eager to show off his counting skills, started right up. "Oon, Two, Tree..."

"Baby stress?" Jamie inquired.

"She's nervous about the actual birthing process," Brittany answered.

"Like the baby's health?"

"More like the baby's going to hunker down and refuse to leave her womb."

"Like a 'Heck no, I won't leave this uterus,' sort of thing?"

"Exactly," Brittany answered. "And apparently she's thinking about being a stay at home mom."

Jamie sat up, "What?!"

"She just mentioned it today," the older blonde said without much urgency.

"And what do you think about that?"

"I don't know," Brittany said. "We haven't really talked about it yet, but...I'll support whatever she wants to do."

"Eweven, Tirteen, Fourteen-"

"Twelve, Max," Brittany said to her son.

"Eweven, Telve, Tirteen..."

"Excellent," Brittany gave him a thumbs up that he could see through his telescope.

"That just seems...so unlike Santana," Jamie continued the conversation.

"I can see it," Brittany shrugged. "I think she's worried about how much we'll both be away from them...with my workload-"

"That reminds me," Jamie interrupted. "I saw the 'Snot Clouds, It's Kleenex' commercial before I left Portland today. You're a genius, Britty."

"Thanks," Brittany accepted the compliment with a grin. It had taken a while for her sister to stop being aggravated by her success. "How's Jake?"

"Fine," Jamie answered. "He sends his congratulations, but he's still scared shi- uh...sugarless of Santana."

"That's understandable after the incident last Fourth of July."

"...Niteen, Tenty."

"Alright!" Brittany clapped when Max finished. "Let's put the telescopes away and hop into bed."

When the youngster climbed up on his bed, Jamie called, "Hey, Max, aren't you going to put on some pajamas?"

"NO!" he yelled.

Brittany gave her a glare that meant 'shut the hell up.'

"Ooo-kay."

"We'll just put another blanket on your bed," Brittany suggested.

"Cookie Moster?"

"Yeah," Brittany had already reached for it and draped it over her son. "Night Mighty Max."

"Night, Mommy," he said through a yawn, just before he closed his eyes.

She gave him a quick kiss and scratched Ruffles' ear on the way by. The dog regularly made his crash pad the foot of Max's bed.

As soon as they snuck out, Brittany explained, "Clothing in general is a sore subject with him right now. He doesn't like it."

"Like you didn't like it from the ages of 3 to 23."

"Yes," Brittany rolled her eyes at her bratty sister. "A lot like that."

As the two of them walked down the hallway of the house that they grew up, Jamie said suddenly, "I can't believe you're about to have two kids."

"By next week."

"I also can't believe you haven't decided on a name yet."

"We're really cutting it close," Brittany agreed. "She refuses to name her Lola-"

"She was a showgirl, Britt."

"Yeah, well," Brittany huffed, "I still think it's cute."

"I havta agree with Santana on this one."

"Figures." Brittany stopped at the steps that led to the basement. "You should be all set down there. Although, I have no idea where we'll put everybody tomorrow."

"Oh, don't worry about that, it's only me. Rachel has everybody else booked at the Four Seasons," Jamie relayed.

"Ah, that sounds just like Rachel."

"You can thank me for that," the younger Pierce informed her.

"I'll mention that to San while I'm talking her out of whatever she has in store for you."

"You said I didn't have to worry!"

Brittany smirked at her little sister, "I lie, James. You should know that better than anyone."

When Brittany entered her bedroom, she was a bit surprised to see that Santana was still awake.

Her wife, propped up by what looked to be twenty pillows, seemed to be pretty enthralled in whatever book was lying open on her lap. The tiny squint that would usually accompany this scene was gone due to the dark rimmed glasses on her face. Santana's still slightly damp hair fell around her shoulders, and Brittany noticed her toes wiggling underneath the blankets.

"Good shower?" Brittany asked.

"Uh hm," Santana hummed more than answered.

"I'm going to take one myself."

"K."

The blonde paused at the door to the bathroom and turned around. Santana still hadn't looked up from her book.

"Max?" she asked.

"Asleep," Brittany answered.

Five minutes later, the blonde came out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel on her head. She felt more than saw Santana's eyes track her all the way across the room. When she turned to face her wife while slipping on a pair of panties, she noticed brown eyes snap back to her book.

"Are you mad?"

"Nope," Santana answered icily.

"Do you want me to call everybody and tell them not to come?"

"Yes."

"San."

"You offered."

"I was kidding."

Santana's eyes cut over to where Brittany was pulling a wifebeater over her torso. She decided to try a slightly different tactic. "I would love you forever if you did that."

"You're already going to love me forever," Brittany said with confidence.

"I really wanted this to be about us," Santana said.

"And it will be."

"Do you even remember last time?"

Brittany exhaled with the memories, "Of course."

"I know they mean well-"

"But they're overwhelming."

"Exactly."

"I promise, I'll make sure it's less whelming," Brittany told her. "Whatever it takes."

"Okay," Santana smiled just a little. She closed the book that she wasn't actually reading at all. "Did you put James in the basement?"

"Yep. If she's not so scared that she escapes to sleep in her car," Brittany said as she turned down the comforter on their bed.

Santana adjusted her glasses and said under her breath, "Maybe she should."

"Technically, it's not her fault, San," Brittany slipped under the sheets and scooted closer to her wife. "And...it's not so bad...just our families...and Kurt an-"

"And Rachel!"

"Well, yeah, and Rachel," Brittany acknowledged. "But hey, there's a bright side."

"Which is?"

The blonde smiled, "BayLo will come into the world surrounded by all the people that love her."

"Don't give me that crap," Santana said. "She's not going to have any idea who those crazy people are."

"Yes, she will." Brittany rested her head head on the edge of one of the pillows. "Just like Max did. He knew everyone instantly."

"Even instinctively cried anytime Rachel tried to hold him."

"He still cries anytime Rachel comes near him," Brittany said.

Santana couldn't help the sudden pride she felt, "That's my boy."

"That was such a great day."

"Yeah, it was," Santana agreed.

"And it didn't matter who was here, or what silly, petty things were going on," Brittany said. "It didn't matter that kind of chaos they caused, because once he was here, we were a family. So yeah, it might get crazy. Rachel may buy another houseboat from a drug smuggler. Kurt might get hit with another turkey leg. Abuela will most likely use your credit card for her online poker addiction. My mom might accidentally roll over Jamie's foot with a car while we're trying to get to the hospital...again...but when this little baby gets here, our family will be even more awesome."

"You're right."

"I know," Brittany pulled the covers just under her neck. "So get some sleep, because the crazies will be here before we know it."


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning Santana and Brittany woke at the unmistakable sound of little feet running down the hallway and a little voice to match yelling, "No tiger! I don't like tiger."

That was followed by a much more restrained set of bigger feet and the words, "What about an elephant? It's blue! Max! Max, come back!"

That was followed by the sound of four paws scratching at the hardwood and some really incessant barking.

Santana opened one eye and groaned, "Will I ever sleep again?"

Brittany wanted to echo the complaint. Every time Santana had to pee in the middle of night, who was in charge of pillow placement?

Exactly.

Instead of bemoaning her own lack of slumber, the blonde just pushed the dark hair off Santana's face and smiled. "Gud mornin."

"I guess the fact that Jamie is chasing Max around the house means that yesterday really happened and everyone is en route to Seattle."

Brittany rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and stretched her arms above her head, smacking the headboard behind her. "According to Jamie, Rachel's jet was leaving New York first thing this morning. They're picking up my parents in Colorado and they'll be here early this afternoon."

"Great," Santana said sarcastically as she tried to rock herself over onto her back.

Brittany helped with a light shove to her opposite shoulder, "And we're supposed to be surprised."

"How surprised?" the brunette asked while kicking into the second phase of getting out of bed: swinging her feet to the floor. "Should I gasp in shock or piss my pants in excitement?"

"A simple 'I had no idea you were coming' would probably work," Brittany answered as she crawled down and pushed Santana's legs over the edge of the bed.

"I'm not sure I can pull it off."

"Try."

"I can't promise anything."

After giving her wife a bit of a lift in the general vicinity of Santana's ass, she asked, "For me?"

Santana rolled her eyes, "Oh-kay. I will act surprised. For. You."

"Thank you."

"So surprised, I'll punch Rachel in the face," Santana said as she slowly made her way to the bathroom.

"Too surprised!" Brittany called to her. "Dial it back."

When the two of them finally made it into the kitchen that morning, Jamie had already wrangled their son to the table for breakfast. Santana was wholly impressed that he was not only wearing clothes (given it was part of a Halloween costume from last year) but he was also eating a bowl of cereal.

"Good morning, Max," the woman greeted her son by pinching his cheek. "Did you have fun with Aunt Jamie?"

The look on Jamie's face signaled that she had had anything but fun.

Max, however, didn't harbor any ill feelings at all about the epic battle of wills. He smiled like a champ and nodded, "Anny Jamie cwied."

"Toldja he didn't like em," Brittany told her sister as she passed. She pulled out the chair in front of Santana, "Have a seat, I'll get it."

That meant that Brittany was going to grab Santana some fruit while she secretly ate some Lucky Charms right out of the box.

Maybe not so secretly actually. She just poured them right into her mouth and simultaneously plucked a banana from the bowl and kicked the fridge open to pull out some yogurt with her pinky.

"Multidextrous!" she exclaimed.

"Muldestrux!" Max repeated with similar enthusiasm

Brittany ruffled his hair after setting Santana's food in front her, "That's exactly right."

Two bites into Santana's customary fruity yogurt breakfast, she saw Brittany react to something outside their window.

"What in the he- enhouse is that about?" the blonde wondered with her eyes squinted.

"What is it?"

"Uh," Brittany fidgeted. She caught Santana's eye with obvious apprehension, quietly judging if this was going to cause mild rage or full-on Snix mode. "They're here. And well...Rach-"

"What did she do?" By the time Santana could make it to the window to see out, several members of their family had already filed out of the big black limo parked in the front yard. "Oh my god," Santana's mouth dropped open. "This is _not_ early afternoon, Jamie."

"I gave you all the information I had," Jamie said in her own defense. "I swear."

"You're the worst double agent ever," Santana accused. "Seriously, you're the Officer Barbrady of double agenting."

"They must have bumped up the meet."

"And arrived at the drop zone ahead of schedule?"

Brittany just flung her arm around Santana's shoulders, "Let the games begin."

#####

Anyone could see the obvious displeasure on Santana's face as she watched the crowd that made up her extended family spoil her son. In fact, it looked much like Max was crowd surfing at a Tony Bennett concert. Her various parents, natural, grand and in-law, were handing the little boy off to each other in line it seemed. That is until he got anywhere near Rachel. Then he would scream like she had just turned off his "commercials." He was his Mommy's son, after all.

"Relax," Brittany mouthed from across the room.

"I'm relaxed," she answered as the blonde neared.

"You look angry," Brittany informed her. "And not just regular angry."

"Brittany, I love our family. Every single one of them. I do," Santana said sincerely. "But I'm not necessarily a huge fan having my son passed around like the prettiest whore at an accounting convention."

"San," Brittany scolded. "Max loves it when they're all here."

"Max loves it because they all give him candy," the brunette hooked her thumb in the direction of the living room. "Grampy Pierce, over there, has been dishing out leftover Easter peeps like a madman."

Brittany looked around Santana to see her father pull out yet another box of marshmallowy pink bunnies. "Mom must have let him loose in Costco again."

"Yeah, well...we should intervene before the sugar shock sets in."

"Okay, okay," Brittany stole a quick kiss before heading after her father and son, "Dad..."

"You look great," Maribel whispered in Santana's ear from behind, surprising her a bit. "I never thought I'd see the day."

"You've been saying that for nine months, Mami," Santana replied. "And, I don't look great...I look like Fat Bastard."

"You look preciosa," the older Lopez woman couldn't contain the joy in her eyes. She placed her hands on Santana's belly, "Estoy impaciente por conocerla."

"But if she's anything like you," Roberto Lopez entered the conversation by resting his hands on his daughter's shoulders, "she's going to be a handful. Tú fuiste un diablillo. Un verdadero monstruo de hecho."

"Hey momma," Kurt said cheerily, breaking the Lopez family moment.

Santana was a tad bit grateful. The sentimental feelings were starting to cloud her annoyance.

"Kurt Elizabeth Hummellady," Santana glared. "I specifically told you to come solo."

"I tried," Kurt promised. "She has an army of private investigators, Santana. It's like she could smell your due date."

"And you couldn't talk her out of it?"

"Talk me out of it?" Rachel sauntered up after making Max launch into another fit of hysterics with just her mere presence. "I wouldn't miss this for the world!"

"I didn't even know we were coming out here until I got on the jet and your parents were sitting there," Kurt explained fruitlessly to Santana. "It was Berry Black Ops. I was powerless to stop it."

"I'm hurt, Santana," Rachel said with all kinds of melancholy in her tone.

"Uncontrollable leg spasms are a symptom of pregnancy," Santana told her, referencing the greeting they shared just a few minutes before. "And I didn't even kick you that hard."

"Not about that. Although, that wasn't exactly the 'Welcome to Seattle' I was expecting."

"Next time, call a month in advance and I'll have a 'Rachel, Go Home' banner printed up to celebrate."

"It would match that 'Rachel, Eff Off' banner you had done for Max's first birthday party," Kurt stated with a grin. "That was the best."

"A little gratitude would be nice," Rachel told her after shooting daggers at Kurt. "I did bring your family together."

"Did it ever occur to you that, oh, I don't know, maybe I didn't necessarily want my family brought together until there was a small, innocent baby to distract them?"

Rachel thought about that for a few seconds, "No," she answered.

"Not only that," Santana was gaining a head of steam, "you parked that monstrosity of a limo in my front yard-"

"I bought that because I wanted everyone to be seated comfortably while we were here!"

"And, you have Beiste posted right outside my door."

"I would have posted her right inside the door," Rachel said. "But it's a family only occasion. She understands."

"Kurt," Santana regarded her best friend. "The 'Rachel, Eff Off' banner is in the garage. Get it, hang it up, that way I can just point to it."

#####

Santana stared at the clock. They were now entering hour number three of a Amor en el Probador Contiguo marathon. It just so happened to be Abuela's favorite telenovela. It apparently centered around some guy named Javier who, according to Alma, was the sexiest systems analyst in all of Mexico City.

The show had bored her to near death. Abuela, however, was entranced.

So was Kurt. The fashion designer had taken up residence next to her grandmother and ooo'd and ahh'd right along. When Santana challenged him about not understanding a thing that was happening, he spilled that he was newly dating David Martinez. David Martinez who, according to Kurt, was the sexiest Spanish teacher in all of Lower Manhattan.

Honestly, Santana didn't even know how they were hearing the television with Papa Pierce snoring in the recliner. Her own father was busy playing some obnoxiously scored game on his iPad. Besides that, Susan and Maribel were comparing notes while studying all the recent photos of Max.

Max, himself, had curled up between herself and Brittany on the couch. He was sleeping with one eye open because Rachel had planted herself on the other end.

Santana was truly grateful for everyone in the room. She loved them all, Rachel not as much, but loved nonetheless. This was not what she envisioned for her last few days of pregnancy, though. She wanted to be curled up with Britt, enjoying their last few nights of semi-uninterrupted sleep. She wanted to be the one spoiling their son before his days as only child vanished. She wanted to _not_ be entertaining. She wanted...chocolate.

That last thing took over pretty quickly and she pinched the inside of her wife's leg.

Brittany, who had been nodding off every few minutes, woke up abruptly. The blonde could tell something was coming. Santana only fluttered her eyelashes like that for two things these days: sex and snacks. Very briefly, a jolt of electricity shot through her. Then she remembered that this wasn't exactly the time for sexing.

"What can I do for you?"

"Will you make me an M&M sandwich?" Santana asked. "Hold the bread."

"Of course, baby." Brittany lifted Max's feet off of her and stood.

Max, anticipating his left flank was vulnerable, scurried to the other side of Santana.

"Even in his sleep, he senses the evil," Santana said to Rachel.

In the subsequent sweep of the room, she found her wife bouncing to the kitchen. She took a moment to appreciate it before Brittany disappeared beyond the banner Kurt had indeed put up earlier. Much to Santana's disappointment, though, she had forgotten that Brittany had transformed it to 'Rachel, Elf Off' last Christmas. It was the thought that counts.

She was lost in daydream about kicking everyone out when a rhythmic, though very loud, knock reverberated all over the living room, Santana looked around to do a quick check. Everybody seemed to be accounted for, except...aw shit!

"Sam-u-el!" Brittany squealed from the doorway.

"Dammit," Santana said under her breath. Her eyes met with Kurt's. He was already squirming in his chair. "Did you know he was coming?"

"No!" Kurt protested. "How would I know? I haven't seen him since he left me standing in front of the 30th anniversary Howard the Duck robotic duckies at FAO."

That was true. Sam and Kurt had broken up when Sam did his own version of Escape from New York and left Kurt without a word. He then moved to Northern California where he was currently living off the grid as a part time grape stomper.

Sam's arrival caused a bit of a buzz around the room as everyone tried their best not to stare between the two formerly involved men. Which, by the way, they were all terrible at. Susan Pierce had stopped mid-carrot to volley back and forth like she was at Wimbledon.

Max, who was oblivious to the tension, greeted him with, "Hi Munky."

As soon as Santana caught onto Max's slight confusion about how to say 'uncle,' she immediately used it to her advantage. Just like you had to differentiate between Mommy and Momma, you had to have an unky and a munky. Eventually, much to her delight, the 'Sam' was dropped altogether.

"Hey, Max!" Sam waved. He gave Santana a tight smile before Brittany dragged him into the kitchen.

"This just keeps getting better," Santana said to no one in particular.

Jamie then plopped down beside her on the couch, stuffing what was probably Santana's intended bag of M&M's into her mouth. "Sam's here. And he looks like Kate Winslet."

Santana, disgusted to see her hard candy shelled snacks being obliterated, knocked the brown pack out of hand and replied, "Don't disrespect Kate Winslet in this house."

#####

What felt like hours later, Santana was awoken by a tapping on her elbow. When she opened her eyes, she saw Paul Pierce towering over her.

"Why don't you go get some rest, Cinnabuns?" Paul suggested with a wink. "We're going to take care of dinner."

"I can't-

"You can," he said. "Don't worry about it."

"Thanks Papa Pierce," she smiled. "You're my favorite father-in-law."

"I'm flattered," he chuckled. "Now go on. You have to stay rested while you've got my granddaughter in there. Go."

"I'm going!"

Santana did just that, escaping to her bedroom to lie in her comfy bed. Just as her eyes were about to close, she saw the bedroom door slowly creep open. She could tell who it was by the tiny little fingers wrapped around it.

She heard footsteps scurry across the floor and Max struggle to climb up on the bed. Finally, she felt the weight of his little body settle next to her.

"Hi Momma."

When she turned to look at him, he had his arms behind his head and his baby Nikes crossed at the feet. "Sup?" she asked.

"Pwayin hide and seek."

"Who ya hiding from?"

"Unky Kurt."

"You should stay low then," Santana advised. "He always looks at the shoes last."

"K," he said very seriously.

When the two of them heard a noise outside the door, his eyes got big. "Gotgo." He crawled down to the edge of the bed and wiggled down. When he got there, he hesitated.

"Max, psst," Santana said quietly.

After looking in her direction, she pointed to the walk-in closet that she and Brittany shared, "Try in there."

He nodded and took off for his new hiding place.

The seeker turned out to be Brittany, who wasn't actually seeking Max at all.

"Hey there," the blonde said as she skipped into the room. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay."

"Are you really or are you pouting?"

"I'm nine months pregnant, I'll pout if I want to," Santana told her with tone that left no room for a challenge.

"Go right ahead," Brittany granted permission. She then climbed onto the bed and situated herself next to Santana. "I didn't invite Sam."

"I didn't say you did."

"You're thinking it."

"No, I wasn't."

"Yes, you are, but I didn't. He put the pieces together after Rachel announced on Facebook that she was off to welcome her newest and youngest super fan."

"Okay."

"Okay." Brittany repeated.

The brunette laughed out loud when she noticed Britt's arms crossed behind her head and her Nikes crossed at the feet just as Max's had been.

"What?"

"Nothing," Santana shook her head. "You're...cute."

"Cute? Just cute?"

Santana's eyes trailed down her wife's body. She had returned to her pre-baby form not long after Max was born. Lucky bitch.

"Really cute?" Santana said playfully.

"I bet I can change your mind," Brittany said in her most seductive voice. She rolled right up next to her wife and trailed a fingernail down her arm. "Oh yeah."

She laughed at Brittany's flirtiness, "Britt Britt..."

"Santana," Brittany said back lowly.

"Our son is in the closet."

Brittany pulled back abruptly, "What? Really? How do you know that?"

"Uh...I saw him go in there."

"Oh," she slowed turned her head to see little Max standing just inside their walk-in. "Hey buddy!"

"Shhh," he shushed her. "Unky Kurt is wookin for me."

"Sorry," she mouthed more than said. She looked at her wife, "A heads up would have been nice there."

"You know the rule!"

"Always assume he's close enough to be scarred forever," Brittany recited for the millionth time in the last three years.

Kurt's head appeared from behind the door just a moment later. "Hey, am I interrupting?"

"Not anymore," Brittany said. She stole a kiss before scooting off the bed. As she passed Kurt, she motioned toward the closet with a nod and he got the message.

"Have you seen a man about 3 feet tall?" he asked Santana anyway.

"Nope, nobody matching that description has been through here," she said loudly. "Certainly not anybody like that hiding behind the Spring Collection."

She checked on Max who had hidden all of his body except for the tips of shoes. When she turned back to Kurt, he was beaming at her.

"That's creepy," Santana said pointing to his mouth.

"Look at you."

Santana sighed, "I know. I'm as big as a cruise ship."

"Oh, stop," Kurt said. "You look great."

"You're the one person that I trusted not to lie to me in a time like this."

"I'm not lying!"

"I'm sure Rachel still has her lie detector."

"Oh, she does," Kurt laughed. He sat down on the edge of the bed and crossed his legs. "You know, as soon as I met Britt, I knew that you'd marry her. I knew you'd live happily ever and have gorgeous babies-"

"The flawless plan-"

"Yeah," Kurt agreed, remembering the bullets of the Flawless Plan she recited to him years ago. "But, I never imagined, you would be..." He pointed to her stomach.

"A cruise ship?" Santana asked. "I know, me either."

"I couldn't be more happy for you."

"Thank you," she said genuinely. "I couldn't be more happy for me either."

"If you don't count the present company taking over your home."

"It's fine," Santana said quickly. After Kurt tilted his head in disbelief, she changed her answer. "I wasn't exactly planning for this, but...we always manage."

"You do."

"What about you?" Santana gave him a few taps on his elbow. "How are you managing?"

"With what? With Sam?"

"With Sam."

"I'm fine."

Santana wasn't entirely sure that was true. "You sure?"

"I let go of all that when I overnighted his last box of LOTR figures to his mother," Kurt told her. "He owes me about a grand in shipping, by the way."

"I hear he stomps a mean grape if you ever need a Lucille Ball impressionist."

"Speaking of careers," Kurt segued, "when are you going back to work?"

"Uh..." Santana's eyes slid away from his to the closet where Max was still hiding, "I'm not sure."

"Are you unhappy there?" Kurt was always looking for any tiny indication that Santana had finally had enough of Seattle and was ready to talk about moving back east.

"I'm just fine there," she said before he could whip up any ideas about her moving her family cross country. "It's not work. It's family stuff."

"Family stuff? Is something wrong?"

"No, no," Santana shook her head. "Everything is great. I'm just thinking of different options."

"Like..._not_ going back?"

"Maybe."

Kurt stared at her with seemingly a million things at the tip of his tongue.

"Go ahead, Liza, tell me I'm being crazy."

The man shook his head. He stood up from the bed and made his way over to the closet where Max was just inside. "Where is that boy of yours?" he asked dramatically, making a show of looking all over. "That's an excellent hider you have!"

Just when he was ready to give up, Max jumped out with, "I'm wite here, Unky Kurt!"

"Oh!" he feigned shock at the sight of the three year old. He clapped his hand against his chest and everything. "Holy Julie Andrews on Broadway, you scared me!"

Max just could not get enough of his uncle's dramatics. "I gotcha!" he said with delight.

"You did."

"I bet dinner will be ready soon, Max," Santana told the boy after he had regained a bit of composure. "We need to get you all washed up."

"I'll take care of it," Kurt said, motioning for her to stay put. "I hardly ever get to hang out with my godson."

"That's hardly a pleasurable event, Kurt," Santana warned him. "Getting ready for dinner is only mildly easier than getting him dressed."

"We'll be okay," the man said with a wink. He lifted the boy and tucked him under his arm like a sack of potatoes. "Get some more rest. You're going to need all of it you can get for when you're on full-time Mom duty."

#####

"It's so nice having everyone here," Paul's booming voice quieted the rest of the people seated around the table. Dinner was on the table and dishes were being passed. "I'm glad we could all gather to celebrate the newest addition to the family."

"It's like a dream come true," Santana with a cheesy smile, handing off a bowl.

"We're excited you could make it," Brittany spoke up. She patted her son on the head, "Especially this guy."

Max shyly grinned at everybody.

"Our little Macaroon is growing up too fast," Paul said.

"He really is." Brittany shot a quick glance at her wife knowing that the subject of Max's growing up had caused a complete hormonal meltdown just a few days prior.

"I agree," Maribel added to the conversation. "It seems like just yesterday we were here for Max's birth."

"And now you're here for this one," Santana said to her mother. Then continued under her breath, "Completely uninvited."

"Anybody want some wine?" Sam asked from across the table. "I brought it straight from the vineyard."

"Have your feet touched it?" Santana asked. "I obviously can't have any, but I want everyone to know that there's a possibility your feet have touched it."

"Nooo," he said, completely unconvincingly.

"Have you two decided on a name? " Abuela inquired.

"We're working on it, Abuela."

"We've actually been calling her BayLo," Brittany said, all smiles. "Baby Lopez."

"BayWo," Max parroted.

"I have a suggestion," Susan offered while munching on a bean. "If you don't mind, that is."

Santana looked at Brittany. Brittany scratched her ear nervously.

"Mom...uh...I don't think we're taking suggestions."

"Maria Teresa Linda Pilar," Abuela told them unprovoked.

"It's too bad you all boys, Ma," Roberto chuckled.

"Taking it into consideration," Santana promised. Her eyes widened at Brittany in an unspoken gesture that there was absolutely no chance of them naming the baby Maria Teresa Linda Pilar.

"Eloise," Susan continued with her own suggestion. "It was my mother's name. She wanted me to name you after her."

"You dodged one there, Sis," Jamie snorted.

Rachel, never wanting to be outdone shouted, "Barbra!"

"Not Barbra, no," Brittany said to her. She then turned her attention to her mother, "And I'm not sure that Eloise is quite what we had in mind."

"She was a lovely woman," Susan made a last ditch effort to change her mind. "Smoked like a chimney and had a mouth like a sailor, but lovely."

"And the pills, don't forget the pills," Brittany added. "She had a pill for everything. 'Have a rock in your shoe? I have pills for that.'"

"What about Samantha?" Sam tried to slip in nonchalantly. "Samantha's a good, strong name."

"Not even if it was the last name on earth," Santana assured him. "Nope."

"Roberta," Roberto said after clearing his throat.

"Ha ha, Papi."

"If he gets Roberta in the hat, I want Paula," Paul threw out there. "Or Strudel."

"There will be no Little Roberta or Little Paula," Santana told them. "Or Strudel, Papa Pierce."

"Coco?" Kurt suggested as he took a bite of chicken.

"As in chocolate?" Brittany was intrigued.

"As in Chanel," Kurt clarified.

"Susie," Jamie put on the table.

"Aww," Susan patted her daughter on the back. "That's sweet."

"If they went with it, I wouldn't feel the pressure to name my own daughter after you."

Maribel leaned over and nudged Santana just a bit, "Isabel?"

"Hm," Santana acknowledged. "Isabel." She reached over and tapped the table, signaling Brittany. "Isabel?"

"Interesting," Brittany offered in response.

"Isabel Roberta," Roberto said with a sly smile. "That's a nice name for a little girl."

"It's a beautiful name, Papi," Santana agreed. "Not necessarily for this particular little girl."

"Esther?" Sam said. "It's biblical."

"Patti!" Rachel practically screamed.

"Maria Teresa Linda Pilar," Abuela said again like it was the first time. "I saw the look you gave Brittany."

"Abuela, it's nice, but-"

"It's an old woman's dying wish!"

"You're not dying," Santana groaned in frustration. "You're the healthiest person here."

"You should think about it," Alma pointed at her. She then pointed at Brittany, "You, too."

"It's on the short list," Brittany nodded.

"I told you we'll consider it," Santana said.

"You're lying to an old woman," Alma complained.

"They are," Kurt agreed, who had really bonded with Abuela with their shared interest in Javier on Amor en el Probador Contiguo.

"Stay out of it, Kurt," Santana shot him a look.

"Yeah, Kurt," Sam agreed.

"I don't need you to help me," Santana said to Sam.

"Santana." Brittany was trying to keep her wife in check.

"Don't worry," Kurt said smugly. "He's just mad that I've moved on and he's...doing whatever he's doing."

"Grape stomping is a skill," Sam said defensively. "And I left you."

"Cool it!" Papa Pierce boomed in his deepest, most authoritative voice.

An awkward silence fell over the table until, Rachel cleared her throat obnoxiously. "So, Kurt tells me you used the same donor," she said curiously.

Santana, busy with cutting Max's chicken into tiny pieces didn't answer, so Brittany did, "Yep."

"Oh," Rachel accepted. "I just wondered since the first one was..."

"Hispanic," Santana supplied, pointing the knife at her.

"Yes," Rachel nodded. "I wondered if..."

"We'd go white next?"

"I'm not sure that's exactly what she was implying," Sam started. When he actually looked up from his chicken to Santana, he stopped talking and slowly ducked back down.

"We thought about it," Brittany said to everyone.

"Not that the process is anybody's business..." Santana muttered.

"_But_," Brittany cut off anything else her wife might say, "we felt it was important for Max and his sister to have that connection."

"For what it's worth, I agree," Paul said to his daughter.

"Me, too," Maribel spoke up.

"Wait a second," Susan paused. She pointed at her grandson, "Should we be..."

Max was even paying attention to them, he was too busy feeding tiny pieces of chicken to Ruffles under the table.

"It's fine," Brittany told her. "We're being open about it. We don't want it to be taboo."

"We want him to ask any questions he might have," Santana explained.

"So, you've told him about the artificial insemination?" Sam asked as he finished off his salad.

"We said we didn't want it to be taboo, not that we wanted him in therapy as a kindergartener," Santana scoffed and flung a roll at him.

The roll took a hard slice to the right, narrowly missing Abuela, who said, "I say if artificial insemination is good enough for the Virgin Mary, it's good enough for my granddaughter."

"Thanks Abuela," Brittany accepted the sentiment on Santana's behalf.

"So, Brittany," Maribel leaned up to look around her daughter at her daughter-in-law, "you'll be taking some time off, right?"

Brittany chewed until she swallowed before answering, "I have a couple loose ends with the project I'm working on, but I'll be around for a few weeks."

"And Manny will be here as well?" Maribel kept questioning.

"Manny?" Sam said in question. "Who's Manny?"

"The manny," Santana answered.

"Yeah, who is it?"

"Manny the manny, Sam," Brittany clarified. "He's our manny. His name is Manny."

"Oh."

"He's lovely," Rachel added.

"And a Seahawks fan," Paul mentioned.

"Priorities, Dad," Brittany said.

"What? It's rare to find a dedicated Seahawks fan these days."

"And hot!" Jamie said. All the non-lesbian women and Kurt all agreed.

"And very well-dressed," Kurt declared, his face propped up on his hand with a dreamy look in his eye. "You know what I've always wondered-"

"Yes," Santana cut him off. "I do know what you've always wondered, and we don't know."

"We've never asked," Brittany said.

"Because it doesn't matter," Santana tried to end the discussion on this topic.

"It doesn't," Abuela agreed. "But he is. I know, I learned how to spot them on the internet."

"I don't think so," Jamie spoke up.

"I do," Susan elbowed her youngest daughter.

"I always thought so," Roberto said.

"Really?" Maribel asked him. "I don't see it."

"So well-dressed," Kurt reiterated.

"Nah," Paul said before standing to get the dessert he whipped up. "I thought he mentioned someone before."

"That was a sister," Rachel said to him.

"Oh."

"Can we not discuss this?" Santana said loudly.

Everybody quieted again before Brittany said, "I think so, Santana doesn't."

"Stop speculating...he may not even be around for much longer anyway," Santana said.

"Where's Manny going?" Rachel whined. "He's so good at celebrity crosswords."

"And he built Ruffles' dog house," Paul said. "Good craftsmanship."

"He's not going anywhere." Santana was getting increasingly impatient. "He just might not be _here_."

"That made no sense," Sam, of all people, pointed out. "I want to meet him."

"Why?"

"So I can have an opinion," he answered.

"He's not interested," Kurt slipped in. "I've told him all about you."

"Move on already," Sam shot back. "You're the mayor of Bitterville."

"Ohh noo," Kurt said dramatically. "I'm living in Just Fine Town. In fact, I'm sunbathing on the balcony of my Dating Again Condominium."

"Guys," Brittany pleaded. "Stop."

"He started it," Sam argued.

Santana looked over to Brittany and simply said, "Ears."

Brittany jumped right into action by placing her hands over Max's young impressionable ears. "Go ahead."

"You two need stop it," Santana said pointing between them. "Not at dinner, got me? 'Cause right now, you're in LesbiLand. I'm the governor here. And Britt's the president. So get over it before I send you both packing on the Bitchtown Express."

When she was done she checked on Max who had resumed eating the Mac and Cheese especially prepared for him. She patted his head, "Tell your uncles you love them."

"Love you, unkies!" Max said while chewing noodles.

"Thank you," she said to her son. She then addressed Sam and Kurt, "Be good."

#####

"There you are, Mrs. Lopez," Brittany said as she peeked in their bedroom.

Santana had decided to retire from all the fun and seek out some peace and quiet. "Hey baby," she smiled wearily from the seat in front of her vanity.

Brittany closed the door softly and headed over her to wife. She leaned down so she could see both of them in the mirror and winked. "How are you?"

"Tired."

"That's to be expected."

"How's it going out there? Sam and Kurt still on their best behavior?"

The blonde trailed her hand down Santana's back before giving her a sweet kiss on the back of her neck. She flopped down on the bed before answering, "Everyone except James left. Sam went to his mom's. Rachel rounded up our parents and Kurt and took them back to the hotel."

"She wants something," Santana thought out loud after a minute of silence.

"Well, yeah, it's been a while," Brittany agreed. "But Jamie's here. And you're tired and way too uncomfortable."

"Rachel."

"Nah, she's pretty and all, but I don't get the appeal."

"Not you," Santana said over her shoulder. "Rachel wants something."

Brittany sat up, twisted around, and crossed her feet in her lap, "You think?"

"I know," Santana nodded. "She's so transparent."

"That little Gregory in Max's Gymboree class has a trans parent."

"Oh, I love her," Santana perked up. "I've been meaning to ask where she gets her nails done."

"It's the place on Third Avenue," Brittany told her. "And she has much better style than Rachel."

"You're right, but Berry's still up to something."

"Probably wanting you to reconsider moving back New York...again."

"Kurt did bring it up...again."

"Well..."

"Noo- oh...ahh," Santana took a deep breath out and caressed her belly. "She's a hyper little thing."

Brittany hopped off the bed to feel the baby. "Ohh, she's really moving around in there."

"Dancer."

"Just like Hammer."

"I was actually thinking more like Beyonce, but Hammer, too."

"Reminds me of our first dance as a married couple," Brittany reminisced. "Do you remember?"

"Of course, I remember," Santana smiled at the memory. "2 Legit 2 Quit."

"You and me, babe," Brittany said. "We're 2 Legit."

Santana smiled at her wife. "Help me."

Brittany hopped up, she held out her hands. Santana wrapped her fingers around Brittany's wrists and let herself get pulled to her feet.

"Hey," the blonde whispered as she ran her fingers through Santana's dark hair. "You know what my favorite part of that day was?"

"When I locked Rachel in the bathroom because she got ordained online?"

"Nope."

"Just married sex?"

"That was awesome, but no."

"Hmm...what was it?"

"It was before the wedding even happened. You were all stressed out because Rachel was driving you insane and I was stressed out because that stupid rule you made up."

"I didn't make that up!" Santana contested as she let her hands fall to her wife's hips. She followed the sway that Brittany had unconsciously started. "You really aren't supposed to see the bride."

"In the dress!"

"At all."

"We never did google that," Santana recalled.

"We never did." Brittany arms rested on Santana's shoulders. "I guess it didn't matter afterward."

"We argued about it for ten minutes on opposite sides of that door, though," Santana laughed. "So that was your favorite part of our wedding day?"

"You remember how it ended?" Brittany questioned.

"Yeah, you made Kurt cover my eyes and opened the door just wide enough for your lips to get through."

"And?"

"It made everything better."

"That's when I knew, no matter what, we'd always always find a way to connect," Brittany explained. "Through a door. Across a country. Whatever it is, I knew we'd always figure out a way. That it was right...and it was forever."

"Aww, Britt Britt..." Santana leaned into her wife as much as possible.

"What was your favorite part of that day?"

"The just married sex."

"Of course," Brittany said, rolling her eyes.

"I'm serious though," Santana told her honestly. "The first time as wife and wife. It was..."

"Right?"

"Yeah...Forever."

The two of them continued to dance without music in the middle of their bedroom hanging onto each other for quite some time.

Well, until Santana complained that her back hurt.


	3. Chapter 3

"Now?" Santana mouthed as she rested against the doorframe of the walk-in closet she and Brittany shared.

Brittany nodded as she tucked her phone between her ear and shoulder while trying to decide what to wear. "Santana and I have something going on this afternoon, Holly. So I can't be there for long."

Santana got her attention and motioned for the phone.

Brittany shook her head.

The brunette widened her eyes in that way she always gets Max to immediately comply. "Phone," she said with authority.

"Nuh uh."

"Let me talk to her."

"Uh, Holly, San wants to t-"

Santana swiped the phone before she could say anymore, "You said two weeks, Holiday. Two weeks with my wife and you wouldn't call her with any insane chaotic problems or disappear into South America again. Two whole weeks! It's barely been two days. You promised me!"

"We're having a problem with the Big Wee's team," Holly told her. "They want to talk to her. They won't budge."

"You can't take care of it?"

"They've been dealing with Brittany," Holly explained. "She's the best. They know it. I know it. You know it."

Santana deflated. She did know it. Brittany had been working on this campaign and with these people for months. If she had to go, she had to go. Just like Big Wee's.

She handed the phone back to Brittany, "You'll make it back, right?"

Brittany knew better than to make promises, "I'll do my best."

Santana knew that meant there was a 50/50 shot. "Ugh," she complained.

She was elated for Brittany's success. Britt had earned it. She was an advertising genius. The woman just had a knack for coming up with stuff that stuck in people's heads. It was quite remarkable to see the process from Brittany randomly spewing out something seemingly ridiculous while lying in bed at night to that phrase plastered on billboards or set to music. The latest being Big Wee's, which had been stuck in Santana's head for weeks now.

_No need to rush,_

_No need to flush,_

_We've got you covered_

_With Big Wee's!_

Damn that Will Schuester and his catchy jingles.

"Try really hard!" Santana begged.

Brittany hung up the phone and set it on a shelf. She held out her hand for Santana, "Come here."

Santana rolled her eyes but let herself be dragged over to her wife, "Yes?"

"I love you," Brittany cupped Santana's face and pulled her even closer. "I love you and I'm so sorry that I have to go to work."

"Hmm."

"Did I mention that I love you?"

"Yeah, yeah," Santana smiled as Brittany pecked her forehead with kisses, "I love you, too."

"Make me believe it."

Santana tilted her face up to catch Brittany's lips, "I. Love. You. And I'll love you even more if you make it back."

"I'll try, baby," Brittany said. "And if I don't, I'll send a suitable replacement."

#####

Three hours later, Santana opened the door to Kurt.

"Really?"

"I was summoned to accompany you to your appointment," Kurt said with a curtsy.

Santana was skeptical, "You? _You_ are going with me to birthing class?"

Kurt gulped, "Brittany said it was to pick out a knockout maternity gown for the hospital."

"Ah," the brunette crossed her arms. "She tricked you. That Brittany Pierce is a sly one."

"Is it too late to back out?"

"Yep!" Santana said. "You're here already and I can't fit behind a steering wheel."

"What about Jamie?"

"James is on Max duty."

"Can't we switch?"

"Nope," Santana said with a grin.

"Can I call Brittany and ask if we can switch?" Kurt asked hopefully.

"Better question," Santana said. "Why didn't she call me herself?"

"Oh," Kurt had an answer for this. "She said if she called you, she'd get all the rapid fire Spanish and that would just make her hungry for tacos."

Santana nodded, realizing that Brittany's assessment was probably right. Then, she was nodding because that sounded good. "Tacos..."

Kurt pulled a bag from behind his back, "She also said that after I mentioned tacos, you'd want one."

"She knows me well," Santana smiled and accepted the bag.

"Also," Kurt had a bit of a nervous twitch. "I think it's important to mention that Rachel is also here. In fact, she's hiding in that bush." Kurt wiggled his finger toward the shrubbery next to the front door.

"Traitor!" Santana heard.

"I think she would have figured it out eventually, Rachel," Kurt told her.

"You could have eased her into it."

"Wow," Santana said, barely making the outline of Rachel inside the bush. "That shrubbery has never been more unattractive."

"Heads up," Kurt said. "She practiced an a cappella version of Sweet Child of Mine all the way over here."

"It was Teach Your Children Well!"

"Rachel," Santana groaned. "Get the fuck outta my landscaping. You're going to give me night terrors."

The other woman did as she asked and exited with a leaf in her hair.

"So this is my suitable replacement?" Santana asked. "The princess and the peabrain?"

"I'm the princess!" both Kurt and Rachel said simultaneously.

Santana took a deep, cleansing breath. "No singing - solo or dueting. No dancing - spontaneous or choreographed. And Rachel," Santana's eyes bore into hers. "Try your best to be someone else. Someone less annoying."

"Why would you say that?"

"Because you're annoying," Santana said simply. "You annoy me. You annoy Brittany. You annoy Max. The whole city of Seattle gets irritated when you hit Pacific Northwest airspace."

Rachel accepted that she was indeed pretty annoying. "I'll try."

"Those are the rules and they are non-negotiable."

"What about humming?" Rachel asked.

"Non-negotiable, Berry."

"You know I have to run through my scales seven times a day."

"I don't care," Santana said. "Those are the rules."

"Fine," Rachel relented. "Let's go."

After Kurt and Rachel helped Santana descend her front steps, she quickly realized where they were leading her to.

"Oh, no. No. No. No," Santana stopped abruptly. "I'm not rolling up to birthing class in your limo."

"What's wrong with my limo?" Rachel was genuinely confused. "Figgins can map the quickest route and Beiste is on board to barricade traffic if need be."

So many years had passed that Santana had forgotten how insane in the membrane Rachel actually was. "Why would we need Beiste to barricade traffic?"

"Why wouldn't we?"

Santana tried to fit the pieces together, but decided it was for the best if she just let it go. "We'll go in my car. Kurt can drive us there. We don't need Figgins or Beiste. Honestly, we don't need you, but leaving you here would mean you'd torture my son all day."

"Keys?" Kurt asked, holding up his hand. Santana pulled them out of her bag and tossed them to him. He, of course, missed them.

Soon enough she was deposited in the backside of her own car, with her taco, while Kurt navigated the busy Seattle streets.

As she watched the buildings pass, soon curiosity got the best of her.

"Rachel," she called.

Rachel gave her a quick glance backward, "Yes?"

"How did you know to coordinate this little visit?" Santana wondered. "My parents wouldn't have contacted you to fly them out here."

"Oh," Rachel chanced a look in Kurt's direction. He purposely ignored it. "I...well...I might have done a little private investigating on your approximate delivery due date."

"How did you go about doing that?"

"It's possible I talked to Dr. Tibideaux, your obstetrician."

Santana chewed slowly on her soft taco, trying not to get upset, "She gave you that information?"

"I asked medical professional to medical professional."

"You're not a medical professional, Rachel!"

"I played Dr. Gloria Holt in last year's sleeper hit Not Without My Doctor?" Rachel argued. "I have you know that it was in Emmy contention!"

"Emmys mean nothing in my house," Santana told her. "We're all about the Clios."

"Okay, well she didn't actually give me any information," Rachel admitted. "Apparently, that's extremely illegal. I just asked a lot of leading questions and then sang a medley of songs from Seussical the Musical until she politely asked me to never contact her again. When that plan failed, I had a PI follow you and take photographs. Afterwards, I had those photographs studied by my S.W.A.F. team and finally settled on this week."

Santana knew not to ask. Everything about it was telling her not to ask, but she had to. "S.W.A.F. huh?"

"Santana with a fetus," Rachel said.

"Of course, I should have known," she replied. "I should have known you were behind that creepy feeling I was being watched, too."

"You couldn't have."

"Yeah, I could," Santana told her. "I was almost positive I saw Jacob Ben Israel monitoring me inconspicuously from behind a newspaper a couple of weeks ago."

"I can neither confirm nor deny that JBI is on my payroll."

"Brittany told me I was being paranoid."

"You absolutely should be," Kurt said as he merged out of heavy traffic. "Bitch be cray."

"I had only the best of intentions," Rachel said. "This event was a long time coming."

Rachel was referring to Santana's handful of failed attempts at getting pregnant. She had tried for nearly a year before declaring that maybe they were meant to be a one-child family. She, along with Brittany, decided that she'd make one last attempt before moving on. BayLo was that last attempt.

"True," Santana answered, patting her tummy. "My uterus is apparently not very welcoming. It's probably as judgmental as I am. Like 'Who the fuck are you? What are you doing here? Rattails were out in 1990.'"

Kurt laughed before asking, "Are you nervous?"

"Of course," she answered. "I'm nervous about the birth. I'm nervous about taking her home. I'm nervous about her being a teenager."

"But, you have a while before she's that age," Rachel said, trying to be helpful.

"Not as much as you'd think. I'm not disillusioned or anything. Max has always been easy. He has those nice, polite Pierce genes," Santana said, "But this kid...ah. I'm suddenly reminded of every fit I've ever thrown, every tantrum, every time I threw a boombox through a plate glass window."

"Just how many times did you do that?" Kurt asked.

"Hm...do you remember in college when I convinced you that Adam Crawford was so pissed because you stood him up that he threw a brick through your windshield?"

"Yeah."

"That was me."

"Whaaat?" Kurt squealed. "No."

"Yep."

"Couldn't have been," Rachel said. "There was a whole campus investigation."

"You stole my favorite shade of raspberry red lip gloss, so I decided to bust the windows out your car."

"But..." Kurt was flabbergasted. "Quinn testified that she saw Adam running from the scene."

"And that was _not_ perjury," Santana pointed out. "He _was_ running from the scene...in fear."

"Poor Adam Crawford," Kurt lamented. "An unwilling sacrifice in your evil schemes."

"Some people get trampled in the process," Santana said without much guilt.

"Why didn't you tell me that?" Rachel questioned.

"You can't keep secrets," Santana said matter-of-factly. "And now the statute of limitations has passed."

"Did I tell you I saw Quinn not too long ago?" Kurt said after some of the shock had worn off. "She's still in New York."

"Is she still divorced?"

"Yes," Kurt stated. "She's started a new venture, though. Apparently, she's a charter member of the new Mothers Against Drunk Texting taskforce."

"Is she now?"

"Yep, and just to clear up any confusion, that has nothing to do with driving in any way, shape, or form. It's strictly drunk texting. M.A.D.T. An organization of mothers, for mothers."

"Good for her," Santana told him. "It's always nice to have a hobby. Mine is angry lesbian blogging. Because I'm a lesbian. And I'm angry. And I have a computer."

"I did a little angry lesbian blogging when I was with KStew," Rachel announced. "But as soon as we broke up, I went back to just regular blogging."

A little direction for Kurt and a few turns later, they had arrived in the parking lot. Kurt immediately jumped out to help Santana. Rachel, however, had other things more pressing.

"Rachel, what..." Santana closed her eyes momentarily, trying to keep calm, "what are you doing?"

Rachel, who had trying out a myriad of different pairs of sunglasses that were packed meticulously in her bag, said, "Which pair best hides my identity?"

"The Clark Kent pair," Santana answered sarcastically. "What the hell?"

"I really don't want to be recognized," Rachel said. "I'm not prepped for that."

"Okay, hey," Santana leaned up as much as pregnantly possible. "I used to do this for a living. So, I can prep you."

Rachel was quick with a smile. "You will?"

"Of course."

"Okay."

Santana tried to look as sincere as possible, "If somebody asks you a question, you should take on the role of a normal human being and answer it accordingly."

Rachel let that soak in a bit. "What's my character?"

"The opposite of Rachel," Santana said. "Let's call her Lehcar."

"Oooo, let's make it French, Le Car."

"Great idea," she said shimmying out of her bucket seat. "Don't worry, I'll handle everything."

Santana took Kurt's outstretched hand and exited the vehicle. "She's insane," she said to him when her feet were finally on the ground.

"And you left me with her to fend for myself," Kurt muttered.

"Has it been that bad?" she asked.

"She lost Marley to Gary Busey in a poker game."

"Holy shit!" Santana was taken aback. "She's playing poker with Busey?"

"Strip poker. It was Marley or her golden thongs."

Rachel shutting the car door effectively ended the conversation. She confidently strode toward the entrance to the building and then turned and called, "Are you coming, slowpokes?"

"Same old Rachel," Santana said.

"She needs you," Kurt commented as he offered his arm to walk her in.

"Not an option."

"I'm just saying."

"Well, stop saying."

"Never."

Santana waved to the instructor as they passed through the doors, "Hi Brenda."

Brenda Castle, the certified instructor and creator of The Brenda Method of Childbirthing Naturally and Comfortably, came right over to greet them. "Santana, hello. Where's Brittany?"

"Working," she frowned.

"Oh," Brenda looked at Kurt and Rachel, "Well, you know that only your partner or birthing coach is allowed to accompany you."

"No, no," Santana said, "these are friends that I've recommended you to. They're just here for the sit-in session."

"There's a fee," Brenda said politely.

"This one will pay it," she nudged Rachel.

The motion may Rachel's glasses slip down her nose slightly and she quickly pushed them back up. "Money's no object...for some. I...earn a meager working woman's salary."

"Husband and wife?"

"Both pregnant," Santana said. "Kurt and Licker."

"It's French," Rachel said, not liking Santana's pronunciation. "Le Car."

"Or just Licker," Santana stated to Brenda. "Not like alcohol, though. This is just plain ol' Licker."

Brenda gave both of them long looks, "You don't look pregnant," she told Rachel. She then eyed Kurt, "And you're a man."

"That's both sexist and insensitive," Kurt answered back quickly.

"And she's having a dwarf," Santana said in reference to Rachel. "She's carrying most the weight in her thighs."

"Alright," Brenda smiled. "Grab a ball and join the circle."

Several other couples had already arrived and were balancing on their exercise balls in a giant circle around the room. Kurt immediately rolled a ball over for himself and Santana, edging between two of the other pairs. Rachel was left standing there, without a ball.

"Uh, Kurt," she stomped her foot.

"Get your own ball, Licker," Kurt snapped back.

Rachel snarled a bit before asking what the opposite of herself would do, then she answered herself...out loud. "Le Car would get her own ball." She then proceeded to roll her huge inflatable ball to her intended destination. Unfortunately, the exact spot she wanted was already in use. "Excuse me," she said to the people who had been there for twenty minutes before she ever arrived.

The pregnant woman looked at her in confusion.

"I want this spot."

"Ma'am," Brenda called for her. "Just pick any other area."

Rachel was going to argue, but it was clear she dropped back into character. "Le Car would go somewhere else."

Brenda, hearing Rachel talking herself, approached Santana, "Is your friend alright?"

"She's just testy because she likes to be able to see outside," Santana assured Brenda. "No worries." She waved to Rachel, "Look, we saved you a seat by the window, Licker."

Twenty minutes later, Kurt scooted his ball a little closer to Santana's and whispered, "What's so special about Brenda's method?"

Santana shrugged, "I have no idea. Brittany insisted she was the best when she was pregnant with Max. Then, she thought it was important to do it again since our roles will be switched."

"Yet, she's not here."

"It's cool," Santana told him. She gestured to a couple across the room, "We've spend most of our class time talking about how painful it's going to be for Lindsay's undoubtedly uptight vagina to pass a baby with the size of Lance's head."

"Ouch," Kurt agreed when he saw the guy in question. He then nodded to Rachel, who was taking the timing of contractions very seriously. In fact, she was 100% committed to that role.

Santana thumped Rachel's ball seat, which caused her to stop screaming. "Hey!"

"Would you settle down over there?"

"This is a great acting exercise, Santana," Rachel checked the clock on the wall, "Plus, my contractions are now three minutes apart."

"Whatever, just...no need for all the dramatics."

"Fine, besides all this huffing and puffing and has got me parched." Rachel looked at the first person who caught her eye and shouted, "Can someone get me a Tasmanian Rainwater?"

"Licker would get an Aquafina out of the vending machine and then shut the fuck up," Santana told her.

The next hour flew by as the three of them were finally instructed to circle up and cool down. As they all worked on their breathing techniques, Brenda took her place in the center of the circle.

"And remember as we exhale slowly, that giving birth is much like pushing a cannonball through a cocktail stirrer," Brenda said calmly. "Only, you breastfeeders can't drink for a year and you'll be supporting that cannonball for another twenty."

"A year?" Kurt asked Santana. "I don't think I can make that kind of commitment to my fake baby."

#####

"Well, that was fun," Rachel said brightly as soon as the three of them loaded back into the car. "Wasn't that fun?"

"About as much fun as soaking myself in kerosene and dancing in a fire cage," Santana answered.

"It wasn't that bad."

"Easy for you to say," Santana poked Rachel in the shoulder. "You don't actually have the real thing coming up in a few days."

"Just a few days," Kurt said cheerily. "Then it'll be over and you'll have a beautiful baby to dote on."

"Not even close to over. Just beginning."

"What do you mean?" Rachel asked.

"Then the real stuff starts," Santana claimed. "Diapers, nightly feedings, zero sleep."

"That reminds me of Shasta, my lioness," Rachel reminisced. "God, I miss that beast."

"At least with your lion, you d-"

"Lion-ess, Santana."

"At least with your _lioness_, you didn't have to worry about preschool spots or college tuitions."

"Nope," Rachel said. "Just animal control."

"Preschool spots?" Kurt asked. "You have to secure a spot for preschool?"

"Are you kidding?" Santana scoffed. "Brittany had us filling out applications for the baby's preschool a few months ago. That's how she originally became BayLo. We put Baby Lopez on all the forms."

"That's crazy," Kurt said. "Max isn't even preschool yet."

"He's been accepted to a pretty good one, though," Santana bragged.

"Already?"

"Well, yeah."

"How?" Rachel inquired. "Don't you just pay for those things? Did you donate for a Nursery Rhyme wing or something?"

"He had a interview," Santana stated like this was common knowledge. "And he aced it."

"Max?" Kurt asked, trying to wrap his head around the concept. "Like actual questions and answers?"

"Yes. He was brilliant. He has a diverse family, a genuine interest in astronomy, and looks dapper in a suit."

"Wow," Kurt was still astonished. "I never figured you for _that_ kind."

"Listen, I'm not one of those parents who thinks my kid is the cutest or the smartest," Santana told him. "I _know _my kid is the cutest and the smartest. When I showed those annoying bitches at the office the picture of his first big boy poo, I got genuine sentiments."

#####

Santana discovered quickly as they returned to her home that any idea she had of relaxing was probably a pipe dream. Figgins had retrieved the rest of the family while they were out and all the respective parents were currently taking up the living room. Abuela was still intently watching Javier type furiously about his love for the woman in the next cubicle and Kurt was drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

As she scanned the room for a little one, Jamie answered the question before she asked it.

"He's taking a nap in his room."

"Thanks," Santana smiled and set out to find her boy.

She waddled to his door and peeked inside. Max was all tucked in, hands curled under his chin. She crept in and settled on the edge of his bed to watch him sleep. The slight movement of the bed woke Ruffles, who inched up to put his head on Santana's thigh. She gave the dog a few scratches before redirecting her attention to her son. Max's dark eyelashes fluttered just a little bit and Santana smiled. She couldn't help reaching out and combing his hair down where it always stuck straight up. He shifted a bit, which made Santana hold her breath for a second. She soon relaxed when he fell right back asleep, though.

Her eyes traveled from Max to the picture framed on his nightstand. It was taken on the very day that they found out Santana was pregnant with BayLo. Max was in the center with his blinding smile, both his arms stretched around his Moms' shoulders.

She was always amazed by how miraculously Max looked a lot like her in all the conventional ways. He had a similar skin tone, a set of deep brown eyes, and the same black hair. They had been really picky when it came to picking his donor. She figured most couples in the same situation were, but Brittany had been relentless about getting someone whose features most closely resembled Santana's.

Despite that, it still made Santana's heart soar when she saw the little similarities between Brittany and Max. He had the same mischievous grin. She couldn't count how many times she had noticed them sitting around in the exact same position. And, of course, they both slept curled into a little Pierce ball.

She was lost in the comparisons when her phone started to ring in her hand. "Hey," she answered quietly.

"Hi," Brittany said back. "Are you hiding?"

"Watching Max sleep."

"Oh," her wife replied. "A little late for a nap."

"Lots going on, though," Santana said. "He needs the rest."

"True..." Brittany paused. "You don't sound mad."

"Should I be?"

"I'd rather you not be, but I'd understand if you were."

"It's okay," Santana lifted Ruffles' head off her lap and pulled herself up with great effort. "I totally understand you want to get everything done before BayLo gets here."

"This is the last day I'll be away from you," Brittany said. "I promise."

"Don't-"

"No, I promise," she repeated.

Santana gave Max's blanket a little tug and tucked it tightly around him. "I miss you."

"Me, too."

"I know," Santana walked toward the hallway, "And I know I'm being all hormonally clingy."

"You're allowed," Brittany said. "You remember how I was?"

"You cried one night when I got up to get pizza from the delivery boy."

"I'm not proud of that."

"It was adorable," Santana assured her.

"Fatal Attraction adorable?"

"You weren't that bad, babe," Santana said.

"Neither are you."

"When are you going to be here?"

Brittany waited a second to answer. That was never good. "Uh..."

"You don't know."

"Well, they're having some reservations about a pretty controversial ad idea we had."

"Ah, 'Big Wee's is the best, I shit you not,'" Santana already knew what she was referring to.

"Bingo."

"Good luck."

"I'll need it," Brittany said.

"Love you."

"You more."

As she pressed the red button disconnecting her from Brittany, she felt a dark presence. She quickly looked up to find Rachel standing awkwardly in the corridor. "Damn, Rach, you scared me."

"Sorry," Rachel said as she approached.

Santana watched suspiciously. "It's okay."

"Were you in there with Max?"

"Yeah."

"He's asleep?"

"Ye-ah," Santana's eyebrows furrowed. "But that doesn't mean you should come any closer."

"Oh," she halted quickly. "I just..I..."

"Rachel, just tell me whatever it is you want," Santana said. "I know it's something."

"Why would I want anything?"

"Rachel."

"Why?"

"Come off it and just spill."

"Fine," Rachel huffed. "I want to be in consideration."

Santana waited for the rest, but it never came. "Consideration? Consideration for what exactly?"

"Only the greatest compliment you can bestow upon a friend...a best friend."

Santana was still clueless. "And that is?"

"I want to be your baby's godmother."

"You want to what?" Santana asked. "Oh. Hm. Well."

"Is that a yes?"

"That's a...well, this is something I have to discuss with my wife, Rachel."

"Of course," Rachel nodded. "Of course, it is. You should talk to Brittany about it."

"Yeah." Santana grimaced. "Though, you know, Max is kinda...terrified of you."

"I'm not sure terrified is the right word."

"Frightened? Horrified? Petrified? Stuck in a state of unadulterated fear whenever you're around? Are any of those words better?"

"He might be a little less than comfortable with me, possibly."

"Oh, sure, that might be it," sarcasm oozed out of Santana's words.

"Exactly. Sooo...what do you think Brittany would say?" Rachel asked. "Is she still mad at me about that whole Red Carpet thing? Or the wedding thing? Or drugboat thing?"

"Probably not," Santana answered. "She gets over things pretty easily."

"Santana, just so you know, I was born to do this. I was born to be your daughter's fairy godmother."

"That's a great argument, really it is. But, Berry, c'mon. In the time that I've known you, you've been born to sing, dance, act, paint, be a quarterback's wife and for a very brief second you were born to be my fake lesbian lover... so... you'll forgive me for having a few doubts."

"I know that I haven't always been the most responsible person. Or warm, or overly caring..."

"Or very fond of children..."

"But I love you."

"Ew."

"And Brittany. And Max. And whoever this little one is going to be. I love your family just like you were my own family. You _are_ my family."

"And you're jealous of Kurt?"

"I'm so jealous of Kurt," Rachel admitted.

"You must really want this," Santana said. "I actually sense some sincerity."

"I do!"

"I'll talk to her."

#####

The rest of the evening was a flurry of activity. Max woke up and charmed everyone by being the cutest kid in the world. Jamie challenged Santana with cleverly crafted barbs. Abuela eventually pulled herself away from her story to cook an amazing dinner. Remarkably, Santana didn't even bitch when Rachel and Kurt sang an impromptu rendition of 'I Don't Know Much' to close out the entertainment for the evening. She knew she was lucky to have these people in her life and in her home. She just wished Brittany was there, too.

With that in mind, she tossed and turned in while lying in bed that night. Actually, with her limited mobility and pillow guards, she shifted slightly many times. She never could sleep without her wife in bed next to her. It just felt so empty.

Finally, she reached up to grab her cell phone. She quickly typed in the number she long ago memorized and waited for her favorite blonde to answer.

She did in just a few seconds.

"Hi."

"Hi," Santana said in a small voice. "I'm sorry to bother you if you're still working."

"It's fine, San," Brittany replied. "Always."

"Did you resolve the ad issue?"

"Yes. Took some compromises, but I think we're set."

Santana smiled at that news, "Good."

"How did everything go with the family?"

"Everything went well," Santana answered. "It was a good night. Max wore himself out playing with his grandfathers. We had a nice dinner...it was a good night. Except for my missing wife."

"I know, I know," Brittany said. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay." Santana adjusted in bed one more time. "I can't sleep without you."

"You don't have to."

"Really?"

"Really."

Santana heard the a faint knock and saw the doorknob turn. Finally. When she saw Britt's face, she immediately felt relieved.

Santana put down her phone and offered her wife a little wave, "There she is."

Brittany was kicking off her shoes and pulling off various items of clothing, "I've got to hop in the shower and the-"

"No, no," Santana motioned for her. "Just come over here."

The blonde stopped mid shirt removal and complied. "Okay." She crawled up next to Santana, scooching her pillows over. "I'm here."

Santana blindly found and linked their fingers and promptly fell asleep.

#####

#####

_Happy 21st Birthday, Maggie. ;)  
_


	4. Chapter 4

"Where's Santana?" Sam asked as he lifted himself with his arms to settle on the kitchen counter.

"Why do you always ask that?" Brittany said as she crunched on a mouthful of Cheerios. "Are you scared?"

"No!"

"Are, too." She passed him the open box she was eating out of, "Don't worry, pansy ass. She's still asleep."

"One of those nights?" he wiggled his eyebrows.

"Unfortunately, no." Brittany slumped in her seat. "Believe me, I wish. But, no. She's still asleep because she had a rough night."

"She's had a few rough nights lately," Sam said as he grabbed the box. He craned his neck to look around the corner. Getting caught eating Santana's cereal was not the way he wanted his day to start.

"Yeah, well. She's overdue, Sam," Brittany replied. "She's uncomfortable and anxious. And, if we don't have this baby today..."

"Everything's going to be alright, Britt," Sam said quickly.

"Yeah," she nodded. "I know, I know."

"Hey! Maybe we could scare her out!"

"It's not the hiccups. I really don't think if you jump out of a closet, the baby will just fall out," Brittany disapproved of the idea. "Although, if you decide to try, you need to warn me. I'll have my butterfly net ready."

"High risk for getting a pummeling, tho," Sam said. When he glanced back up at Brittany, a weird figure outside the window caught his eye. "Okay, well, that's kind of scary, though," he said pointing.

Brittany turned and upon recognizing the creeper, she waved, "He's not scary. That's Ryder, the neighbor boy. He works at the fish market. Catfish specialist. Slightly more Beibery than you."

"I thought it couldn't be done," Sam frowned. "So hey, that thing we talked about..."

Brittany turned to face him again and rested her elbows on the counter, "Yeah?"

"I would love to," the man smiled. "But, I'm not sure Santana would love it."

"I'm going to talk to her about it, though," Brittany told him. "I know the two of you have had your issues."

"Issues," Sam repeated. "That's one way to put it. She hates me."

"She doesn't hate you."

"She may have just aggressively disliked me before," Sam thought out loud. "But after the Kurt thing, she definitely hates me."

"That's between you and Kurt, though."

"You know it doesn't work like that."

"I'm going to talk to her," Brittany said again. "We each got to pick a godparent for Max. We'll do the same for BayLo."

"But it was Jamie and Kurt," Sam said. "It's not like those are controversial choices. I would definitely be a controversial choice."

"That's true," Brittany dragged the Cheerios box back across the surface. "But you're my oldest friend, Sambo."

With the slight creaking of the hardwood floors, the two of them heard Santana before actually seeing her. Sam hurriedly slipped off the counter.

"So scared," Brittany laughed at him.

"Nuh uh," Sam whispered.

"Hey there, hot stuff," Brittany greeted her wife as soon as she made her way into the kitchen.

Santana didn't even offer one back, she just spun Brittany around in the bar stool. Santana nudged her knees apart and planted herself in between them. She let her forehead drop to Brittany's chest.

"San?" Brittany asked, angling down to get a look at her. "Honey?"

The brunette tilted her head and said ever so softly, "My worst fears are being realized."

"Huh?"

"She's never leaving the womb."

Brittany smiled, just short of laughing, "She's just stubborn like you, Santana. She'll come out when she's good and ready."

"No, she likes it too much in there," Santana cried. "She's gonna figure out how to get cable and a mini fridge and she'll just stay forever."

"Just like my cousin, Steve," Brittany said seriously.

"At least Steve lives in his parents' basement," she pointed out. "This is just ridiculous."

"Santana."

"I just read an American Inquisition article about a woman who gave birth to a two year old."

"Nothing in that magazine is true."

"There were pictures!" Santana protested. "It looked like Godzilla destroying a vagina. It literally came out walking and talking, Britt. Baby's first meal was a burger."

"San," Brittany tilted her head to kiss Santana on her nose, "That's not going to happen to you."

"You don't know that."

"Well, if it does, I'll donate you to science or something."

Santana pulled back, "On behalf of our unborn _and_ unnamed child, I resent that."

"It won't come to that, I promise." Brittany offered her a million watt smile.

Santana tried her best to smile back at her wife. Sam shifting uncomfortably behind her drew her attention away, though. "Whoa, Largemouth Bass, why are you in my kitchen this early in the morning?"

"I told him to come over," Brittany said before Sam could get a word out.

"Oh," Santana stared at him for a minute before saying, "Are you cooking me breakfast? 'Cause Momma and BayLo are hungry."

"Uh..." Sam looked at Brittany, who nodded. "Yes, yes I am. What would you like?"

"Surprise me," she said.

"Okay," Sam twirled around to find something for Santana to eat.

Santana shot a look to Brittany and winked, "He's easy."

"That was a little mean," her wife declared.

Santana shrugged before walking over the fridge and took some milk off the top shelf, "You love me."

"I must," Brittany told her, right before dipping back into the Cheerios.

"Sam," Santana thumped him as she tried to maneuver past. "Grab me a bowl, will ya?"

"Sure," Sam did so immediately.

"What are you doing?" Brittany asked. "I thought you were having Sam cook you breakfast."

"I'm going to soak my panties in milk and see if that will lure her out," Santana announced as she pulled open the utensil drawer and found a spoon.

"That may not work," Brittany looked as if she was thinking it out.

"Nah, probably not," Santana said. She placed the spoon in the bowl and pushed it toward Brittany. She then scooted the milk to her. "Cheerios go in bowls, baby."

#####

An hour later, Santana sat wedged between her grandmother and Kurt on the couch while they continued to soak in Amor en el Probador Contiguo. "So what if he's in love with the girl in the next cubicle?" Santana asked the two of them. "Did there really need to be 50 episodes before he even spoke to her?"

"It's a powerful love story about patience," Kurt said without ever taking his eyes off the screen.

"Oh yeah," Santana nodded. "I patiently want to rip your business attire off, woman who's practically a stranger. Sure, I spend everyday from 9-5 staring at you while you're passing to get coffee, but don't be scared or anything."

"Shush," Abuela tapped her knee. "I can't hear Javier."

"He's not saying anything. It's the same melodramatic voice over that they do every episode," Santana complained. "Yeah, you love her, but office romances are not allowed. We get it."

"It's romantic," Kurt insisted.

"I just watched an hour of them standing in the copy room and not even talking," Santana said. "It's not romantic at all."

"He did talk to her!" Kurt said.

"He asked if she would hand him a ream of paper," Santana said back. "That's hardly a declaration of love."

"You're moody."

"I'm a year pregnant!"

"You're two days past your due date."

"I'm rounding up, Kurt."

"Both of you, quiet." Abuela swiped the remoted and hit pause. She then looked over to Santana, went head to toe, then back up, "You need to have sex."

"Excuse me?" Santana reacted with a half-laugh.

"She's ain't lying, honey," Kurt said in his snappy gay man tone.

"One, it will take care of some of that attitude," Abuela insisted. "But, also, it will help speed along your labor."

"Lopez home remedy?" Santana asked. "You realize I'm a lesbian, right? I'm not sure it works the same."

"It will keep you from interrupting my story. So go find Brittany and stop interrupting my Javier time until I have a beautiful little great-granddaughter to spoil," Abuela said. She pressed the resume button on the remote and picked back up with her program.

"That's just fine," Santana tried to get up so she could stomp out of the room. Unfortunately, her belly was not allowing for quick getaways. "I know when I'm not wanted," she said angrily while she continued to slowly edge toward the end of the couch. "I don't have to stand for this."

"You can't stand anyway," Kurt pointed out. "Do you want some help?"

"Elf off, Kurt," Santana said bitterly as she finally was able to get to her feet. She only needed a little bit of help from the man.

"Britt?" Santana called as she made her way through the house. She turned into the kitchen where Rachel looked to be giving Susan a makeover. "Have you guys seen Brittany?"

"She's outside, honey," Susan answered.

Santana traveled back through her home and finally arrived at the back door that looked over the yard. Brittany, Max, and half the family were out there playing a game of touch football.

"Britt Britt!" Santana yelled sweetly after she cracked open the door. "Can I see you for a second?"

Brittany, who had just caught the football, handed it off to her dad and jogged over. "Be right back," she called over her shoulder.

"Hey," Santana said when she got close.

"Hi. Is everything alright?"

"Yep," the brunette reached out to take her hand. "So, my not so well-intentioned Abuela thinks that the best way to speed up my labor is sex."

"I forfeit!" Brittany yelled to the rest of the players without anymore explanation.

#####

Brittany wasted absolutely no time pulling Santana into their bedroom. She locked the door and pressed her wife against it. "Hi."

"Hi," Santana purred, pulling Brittany into her.

"Let's get you into labor," the blonde said while lifting off Santana's 'Bun in the Oven' t-shirt.

"I don't really think it's going to work."

"Then we'll just keep doing it until it does," Brittany said once the shirt cleared Santana's head. "Okay?"

"Uh huh."

Brittany dropped the shirt on the floor. "I'm glad we're on the same page."

"Same sentence, even."

"Mhm," she palmed Santana's ass and lifted her enough to slip her leg between her thighs.

"Ooo," Santana breath quickened and her head fell involuntarily against the door, "That's nice, baby."

"You're so hot," Brittany said into her ear.

"Am I?"

"Yes."

"Really, though?"

"Yes."

"Britt?" Santana tried to get her attention.

"Yes," the blonde said absent-mindedly while focusing way more on massaging her wife's breasts.

"Britt."

"Yes."

"Brittany!"

The yelling snapped Brittany out of her stupor. "Yes. What? Huh?"

"You really think I'm hot?" Santana asked. "Even now? But, I'm so...pregnant."

Brittany's hands slipped behind Santana's back and to the clasp of her bra. "Santana Lopez, you're gorgeous. Just as gorgeous as the day I walked into your New York apartment and tried to dry hump you," She snapped the bra open and winked her ultra sexy wink, "You're the sexiest woman I've ever seen, pregnant or not."

Santana couldn't help the cheesy smile on her face, "You really think so?"

Brittany's fingers dipped inside the waistband of her maternity jeans. "I really want to do more than just dry hump you right now."

"Okay," Santana breathed.

Brittany had just about to get to the sunspot stroking when there was a knock on their door.

Just. So. Close.

"NO!"

"Girls?" Maribel called through the door.

"Mami?"

"No!" Brittany said again. "We're busy. Go away."

"Max is asking where his moms are," another voice filtered through.

"Dammit," Brittany said to Santana. She raised her voice, "Tell him we'll be out in a second, Mom."

"Mommy?" Max's tiny voice could be heard.

"Hey Maximus," Brittany said two octaves higher than normal.

"We'll be right out, Max," Santana said as she motioned for Brittany to get her shirt. "Just a sec."

"Sugar Cookie?" Papa Pierce knocked with a rhythmic few bangs. "The teams are uneven."

"And Sam sucks!" they heard Roberto comment.

"Hey!" Sam screeched.

"Are they hand feeding the hamster in there?" Jamie yelled just to piss them off.

"What the fuck?" Santana hissed only loud enough for Brittany to hear. "We were gone for two minutes."

"C'mon, Britt," Paul's bellowed again. "Get back out here."

"Dad, give me a minute!"

"We're coming, Papa Pierce," Santana said as Brittany stretched her t-shirt back over her tummy.

"Actually we're not," Brittany pouted. "Nope. Not at all. You're not. I'm certainly not. Nobody's fucking coming in this house."

"Shh."

"Hey!" Brittany snapped. "I'm allowed some frustration."

"Momma!" several light knocks about three feet from the floor came. "Mom-my!"

Santana finally opened the door, "Hey, Maxxy, Moms are right here."

As soon as Max saw her, he clung to her leg, "Momma, I twied to get a cookie and Wachel almost got me!"

"I was trying to help him!" Rachel objected as she nosed her way past the gathering of people at the door.

"Rachel, don't make me get a restraining order," Santana said while comforting Max.

"C'mon, Max," Brittany picked him up. "Let's go get you a cookie...but just one. You can have one even though Mommy can't get her hands on a cookie for anything."

"Somebody snatch your cookie?" Jamie gave her a light punch on the way by. The look she got in return caused her to take a few steps back.

"Excuse us, excuse us," Brittany said as she and Max tried to navigate the maze of people.

"Mooove," Max said. "It's cookie time!"

As the rest of her little family escaped, all eyes fell on Santana. She forced a smile. "How's it going?" she asked them.

"Uh..." Maribel pointed at her chest.

"What?"

"Your shirt," Susan answered.

"Oh-kay."

Santana looked down and caught it just as Papa Pierce said, "It's inside out, Cinnabunns."

#####

"So, I've made my selection for godparent status."

"Cool," Brittany said as she rested her chin on Santana's shoulder. "And did you know your shirt is inside out?"

"Yeah, thanks for that," Santana leaned back into her as they watched Max being chased around by Jamie post-football game.

"I was under pressure."

"Well, now I'm leaving it like this to make a statement," Santana said. "We can fool around if we want to."

"Except we can't without it being a family event."

"That's kinda gross," Santana winced.

"It is," Brittany agreed. "So godparent selections?"

"You may not like it."

"Why wouldn't I like it?"

"Because..."

"Because your selection is Rachel?"

Santana looked up at her wife, "How did you know?"

"She referred to the baby as the Cinderella to her Fairy Godmother," Brittany said. "Usually when she makes Disney references, she's the princess. I figured there was something bigger at play."

"What do you think?"

"Well..." Brittany bit her lip. "Max is..."

"Terrified of her."

"Yeah."

"I know."

"And..."

"And it's Rachel," Santana's shoulders fell. "She does...Rachel-like things."

"Like the Red Carpet thing. And the wedding thing."

"And the drugboat thing.'

"Not to mention all those years she controlled you like a foot soldier."

"Foot soldier?"

"I've been watching a lot of Ninja Turtles with Max," Brittany said in explanation.

"Ah." Santana threaded her fingers with Brittany's. "Well, my selection is no worse than yours."

"You know about that?"

Santana laughed, "Of course, I do. He's your bestie."

"You're my bestie."

"I'm your wifey."

"You're both," Brittany whispered while nipping at her earlobe.

"Sam, huh?"

"I know he's not your favorite person right now."

"No," Santana said. "He's kind of a flake."

"And Rachel's not?"

"Wow," Santana said. "We're really putting BayLo at a godparent disadvantage."

"Nah," Brittany disagreed. "They're both loyal to their friends. They'll both be extremely loyal to BayLo."

"True," Santana replied. "And there's a good chance Rachel will do something really grand and inappropriate...like setting the baby up with a five million dollar college fund. And Sam...well...maybe he'll let her practice applying lipstick to those ginormous flesh balloons on his face."

And that's how Rachel and Sam found themselves sitting in Brittany and Santana's home office with a two desk lamps shining in their eyes.

"You are the chosen ones," Brittany announced as she stood behind them in the darkened room. Those black-out curtains were pretty handy in these situations.

"You're going to let me be the godfather?" Sam asked Santana.

"I am."

Rachel glanced between Santana and Brittany, "I won?"

"These positions come with great responsibility," Santana said in a deep voice. She scratched her chin, "Do you understand what I'm saying to you?"

"Yes!" Sam answered.

Rachel was just downright giddy, "This is better than all six Grammys."

"Now you must take the oath," Santana said as she whipped out two different Ellen Degeneres books. "Place your left hand on Ellen and raise your right." After they both complied, she continued, "Now repeat after me."

"Okay," Sam said anxiously.

"I solemnly swear on the works of Gay Lady Ellen that I will be a role model to Baby Lopez," Santana started. She waited until the words were parroted back and then continued, "I will nurture her, encourage her, and make a lifelong commitment to being a responsible adult in her life." Rachel and Sam repeated her. "I will love her unconditionally, I will help her build sandcastles, and I will tell Santana anything that she tells me in confidence immediately."

"No," Brittany intervened. "San, you can't make them do that."

"Why not?"

"Don't repeat that one," Brittany told them.

"What about the sandcastles?" Sam asked.

"You can repeat the sandcastles."

"Can I add in something about those tiny girl beauty pageants?" Rachel asked. "I've always wanted a six year for one of those."

"Fuck no!" Santana said firmly.

"What about talent shows? Can I promise to enter her talent shows?"

"Hey, wait," Sam tapped on the desk in the room. "If Rachel is entering her in talent shows, can I take her to Star Trek conventions?"

"As if Little Miss Upper West Side can be seen at a Star Trek convention," Rachel shut down Sam's request.

Santana also shut down hers, "I said no, Rachel. No pageants. The first time I see you trying to sequin her, I'm going to revoke your godmother rights."

"Okay," Rachel relented. "Maybe I can just rent a kid for pageants."

"Can we please get back to the oath?" Brittany urged them.

"Hands back on Ellen," Santana pointed to the books.

"Why aren't we using my memoir for this?" Rachel asked.

"Cuz it sucked," Santana told her. "Now put your damn hands on Ellen and repeat after me."

"Just do it," Sam said in a strained voice.

"I will love her unconditionally. I will help her build sandcastles. I will NOT enter her in beauty pageants or take or to Star Trek conventions. And, most importantly, I promise to contact her parents at least two weeks in advance before visiting."

#####

Yet another eventful dinner had come and gone in the Pierce/Lopez house. Santana had complained for most of it. She was too uncomfortable for sitting in the dining room chairs now. That was most of the reason why she was getting to take up most of the couch. Brittany was wedged behind her, creating an incline.

Unfortunately, the two of them had found themselves reluctantly immersed in Amor en el Probador Contiguo. Actually, Santana was the only one that was reluctant. Brittany started to really enjoy it once Abuela allowed for the English subtitles.

"She's just on the other side of the partition," the blonde said to Javier onscreen. "Just tell her!"

"He can't do it now," Sam said, sprawled out on the floor. "There's all that business of the promotion."

"Yeah, but, I don't see what that has to do with anything," Jamie argued.

"Unnecessary drama," Santana complained.

"Do you think she'll figure out he's the one refilling her paper clip cubby?" the blonde asked the rest of the viewers. "She came so close to catching him slip her those extra staples."

"Last episode, he left her a stack of post-it notes with a heart drawn on the top," Jamie said. "They were pink."

"The tension when they were on that elevator," Sam blew out an exaggerated breath.

"I was in a movie like this once," Rachel spoke up. "It was direct to DVD, but it was amazing."

"Personally, I think Benito, the supply guy, is going to spill it," Brittany said. "He knows what's up."

"Or she'll think it is Benito, the supply guy," Santana rolled her eyes. "We didn't get that shot of his abs while he was changing the toner for nothing."

"Nah, she thinks it's the boss," Kurt said. "I think she has a thing for him."

"How can she not know it's Javier?" Abuela said with disgust. "Look at him."

"So in love," Kurt agreed.

"I'm glad Santana and I didn't meet at the office," Brittany told them.

"Why not, baby?" Santana looked up at her.

"Because it looks like torture."

"You two have a pretty good story," Kurt said.

"We do," Brittany agreed.

"The best," Santana did as well.

"I'm so glad I introduced you," Rachel said smiling.

"You've told that story so much that you've started to believe it," Santana told her.

Rachel looked puzzled for a second, "Wait. I didn't introduce you? I could have sworn."

"You two have a wonderful story." Abuela, who had secured the only spot left on the couch, patted Santana's socked foot. "I'll admit, I was not fully convinced when I first heard it. And I didn't love the idea of my granddaughter moving away. But after I met Brittany, I knew that you had found the right person for you."

"Of course, I did," Santana replied.

"Thank you," Brittany said sincerely. She knew how far Alma Lopez had come since Santana came out.

"So much love with you two," Abuela continued. "I see it every time you're together. I feel it in this house. It's on Max's face and it will be the same with the next one. She will be so lucky to have the two of you as her parents. Such a beautiful family you've built."

Santana reached up to take Abuela's hand, "Thank you for saying that."

"It's true," the older woman said. "I'm lucky you allowed me to right my mistake."

"We're both so happy that you're a part of this," Brittany told her.

"To be here for another great-grandchild, I wouldn't have missed it!" Abuela clapped her hands. "That's all an old lady can ask for."

#####

"Nothing has clicked yet," Santana told her wife as she sat on the edge of the tub, arms resting on her belly. "Do you think that's strange? We had Max named three months into your pregnancy."

Brittany had her sleeves rolled up to her elbows as she reached into the tub to pour water over Max's head. "We may have had Max named, but we were fighting about the hyphen until the day he was born."

"Oh yeah," Santana remembered. "The great hyphen battle."

"Which you lost."

"Only because you made a very compelling argument."

"It's true," the blonde said as she scrubbed behind Max's ears. "Sometimes they only give you ten little letter boxes."

Santana reached up and pulled down the mesh net with all the bath toys and set them in the water. "We need something that makes a statement."

"Lola."

"Not that kind of statement."

"I know _that_ Lola was a showgirl," Brittany was trying to make a case for her chosen name. "But that doesn't mean _this_ Lola will be."

"No," Santana said simply. She wiped some water off her face from where Max had just splashed out when his bath time toys attacked the faucet. "Max," she said to her son, "the water stays in the tub."

Brittany pouted.

"Don't," Santana pointed the 'index finger of wrath.' "No pouting."

"But I love it."

"It's too close to Lolita."

"Oh," Brittany smiled. "I love that, too."

"Absolutely not!"

"It meets all the criteria," Brittany told her. "Not too trendy. It's not a food, element, substance, or so common that twenty other kids will have the same name. It's not the name of any current pop star, which I resent, but whatever. And it lends itself to a cute nickname."

"Which is?"

"LoLo!"

"You know what they'll call her?" Santana said as she glanced over to Max driving his boat in circles. "LoLo Loser."

"Oh, they will not," Brittany argued. "And so what if they do. You told me you got through school being called Satan and look at you now."

"I'm pretty sure some people still call me that."

"Yeah," Brittany said. "Last time I was at the dog park, I heard somebody say, 'There goes Satan's mistress.'"

"It was that bit-...billygoat with that fu-rry cocker spaniel, wasn't it?"

"That was the billygoat in question."

The talk of billygoats piqued Max's attention. "Can we see the billgoats?" he asked.

"Not until you get an allowance to feed them," Brittany told him.

"I think it needs to be something...classic."

"Old?"

"No, no," Santana shook her head. "Classic. Timeless."

"Martha Stewart?"

"No."

"Eleanor Roosevelt?"

"No."

"Emily. Natalie. Jessica. Valerie. Katie. Julie. Denise. Margaret. Claire. Stacy. Jennifer?"

"None of those sound right," Santana dismissed them.

"Maria Teresa Linda Pilar?"

"Ha ha," Santana said. "No."

"Maybe we just won't know until we see her," Brittany stated.

"Maybe," Santana said softly. She looked at their son, who had gathered up some bubbles to make an island. "Our kid sure does love bath time."

"I think it's the whole nudity thing."

"You would know," Santana teased. She motioned for Brittany to help her to her feet before saying, "Okay, Max. Gotta get you out before you get pruney."

Brittany handed Santana the hooded dinosaur towel and then lifted him out. Santana dried him off the best she could and then Brittany pajamaed him. Max's Mommy dragged his step stool over to the sink while Momma put his toothpaste on his toothbrush.

"Make sure you get all of them," Santana reminded him.

"All my toofies?"

"Even the ones that are hiding in the back," Brittany said as she took the opportunity to run a comb through his hair.

They both watched him brush from one side to another and then simultaneously said, "Spit."

When he was all done, he handed the toothbrush back over to his Momma and jumped down from the stool.

"Smile," Brittany told him. After he did, she offered her hand for a high five, "Those toofies are looking good, buddy."

"I lookin' good!"

"Yes, you are," Santana agreed as she fixed the collar of his night shirt. "Go see everyone before you go to bed."

Max groaned at the idea of bed time. Unfortunately for him, there wasn't much of a choice.

Brittany wasn't surprised when the entirety of the group was still lounging around their living room watching Amor en el Probador Contiguo.

"Hey folks."

Nine heads wordlessly turned her way.

"Max is going to bed," Brittany set the boy on the ground. "Go give everybody kisses."

He did exactly as he was told. Well, he gave eight kisses. He ran by Rachel.

When he completed the circle, his Mommy said, "You forgot somebody very important."

Max was scared that she meant Rachel for a second, but soon realized she meant Santana.

"G'night Momma," He kissed his hand and very lightly tapped on Santana's belly, "G'night BayWo."

Santana waited until every single person in the room and had sufficiently aww'd over the cuteness of her boy before she announced, "I trained him to do that."

"Another Lopez charmer," Abuela announced.

"Just what we need," Brittany laughed.

"Hey, it worked on you," Santana said with a wink.

"You're in good company, Brittany," Maribel said as she patted her husband's knee.

"She definitely gets all that charm from her Papi," Roberto commented to Brittany.

"So I have you to blame," she kidded.

"To thank," Santana corrected.

"You think so?"

"I know so."

"Okay, okay," Brittany turned her back on the rest of the family and said in hushed tones to Santana, "I'll put him to bed. You meet me in _our_ bed."

"Britt," Santana discreetly pointed to the room full of guests, "everybody's still here."

"I don't care anymore," the blonde answered. "Fifteen minutes tops."

Eleven minutes later, Brittany ran into their bedroom at full speed. She was pulling off her shirt in the process, "I think Rachel has them all playing Broadway Charades or something." Brittany yanked off a shoe and threw it behind her. "That should give us plenty of time." She unhooked her jeans and let them drop before pulling off the other shoe. "She'll be explaining the rules for at least half an hour."

"Uh...Britt," Santana said from inside their bathroom.

"I locked the door," Brittany told her while hopping around on one foot. "They can knock all damn night. Max is asleep."

"...I don't think we'll be getting around to that," Santana said as she slowly opened the door.

Brittany stopped on a dime when she saw the look on her wife's face. "San?"

"It's time, Britt Britt."


	5. Chapter 5

"It's time? That time?"

"What other time would it be?"

It's time!" Brittany screamed. She had run through this moment so many times in her head. She had mapped it out, planned for it. But, ultimately, when it came time to put the plan in action, she was frozen. None of the steps of the plan were coming to her at all. "Holy shit! What am I doing?"

Santana, was actively trying to stay calm in the face of Brittany's apparent paralysis. She took a few deep breaths, "Okay, well first, you need to get dressed," she said to her wife.

Brittany looked down at herself and realized that she was standing there in her bra and panties. Her jeans were hanging off one foot because she had yet to get them off around the shoe that was still on.

"Of course," Brittany said. She turned in a full circle, jeans wrapping around both feet, and ended up facing Santana again, "What should I wear?"

"Oh, I don't know, something off the shoulder. Maybe a little stonewashed denim," Santana said sarcastically. "Clothes! Any kind of clothes, Britt. Just get dressed."

"Yeah," Brittany ran over to retrieve her shirt, tripping a little. She kicked her pants from around her ankles and searched the room frantically, "The floor ate my shirt!"

"Get another one!" Santana screeched as the pain of a contraction started to hit her. "Ahhh! Damn! She's got a machete in there!"

Brittany, spooked by the sudden commotion, pulled a random shirt out if the hamper and put it on. She jogged back over to the bathroom entrance, "Is this too wrinkly for childbirth?"

"Babe," Santana cringed. "It's your boobie ad space shirt."

"No then?" the blonde asked, fully prepared to take it back off.

"No, it's fii-ahhne. I need pants! Get me pants."

Brittany hopped over to their dresser, pulling her own pants back up her legs. "Which pants?"

"Any pants that aren't soaked!"

She took out the first thing she came to. That thing just happened to be a ten year old pair of sweatpants from U Dub. "Pants! Mission Accomplished."

Brittany got halfway to the bathroom before Santana yelled, "And panties!"

That time, instead of rounding the bed again, she just flung herself across it, did a barrel roll and plucked some undies out of Santana's drawer.

"Alright!" she said unnaturally loud as she finally reached Santana. "Panties! I got your panties! They have tiny purple puppies on 'em. Is that okay? Of course, they are. Are they? Panties!"

Santana slipped them on, "They'll work."

"And pants," Brittany presented them grandly.

"Britt," Santana studied the pair of pants that were brought to her, "these are yours."

"So?"

"They're way too long!" Santana held them up. "And they won't fit over my belly."

"Make it work, woman. Now isn't the time to be picky," Brittany said as she pulled them from Santana's hands. She helped her change quickly and rolled the sweatpants up four or five times, ending at her wife's calves. "There. Problem solved."

"I look great."

"Next time, I'll get you a tailored birth suit."

"Oh, no," Santana protested. "Don't start with the next time shit."

"Okay, okay," Brittany ran back into their bedroom, furiously looking around. "Where's the bag? We packed a bag for this. Where's the bag? Where's the bag, Santana?!"

"You're freaking out!"

"I'm not freaking out," Brittany said as she stumbled over something on the floor. She picked it up. "Oh, there's my shirt. Should I wear this one?"

"No! Just wear the one you have on."

"But it's my boobie ad space shirt."

"Prime real estate," Santana commented.

"Okay," Brittany grinned at the compliment. "We're going to have to pack another bag."

"The bag's in front closet," Santana said. "And you need another shoe."

"Shoe!" That put Brittany back on track. She found and slipped on the one she had kicked off earlier. "Okay, I'm getting the bag!" She was about to dash out of the room when she had second thoughts. "Wait, no. You first. Then the bag."

"Let's both go and both get the bag."

"Okay!"

"Breathe, Brittany."

"Hee hee, hoo," the blonde replicated her Lamaze breathing from three years prior. "You should be the one breathing, though."

"I am breathing."

"Well, keep breathing, okay?"

"Alright," Santana took her hand. "You ready?"

"Yeah," Brittany answered. She got about three steps before asking, "Where's Max?"

"Asleep."

"Oh yeah." She went another couple of steps and asked, "Should I put some bleach on the tile in there?"

"No."

"It's new tile!"

"You need to focus."

Brittany had walked Santana nearly halfway down the hallway when the pain of contractions started to intensify. "Mother fucker, damn, shit, ouch, fuckingfuck. What the hell is she doing in there?!"

Jamie was the first to round the corner, "What's going on?"

"It's go time!" Brittany told her little sister. "Baby's a-coming!"

"Baby time?" Jamie squealed. She ran to where the family was gathered, "It's baby time, the baby's a-coming!"

Abuela hopped right off the couch and shut off the television, "About time! The baby's a-coming."

"You have to get to the hospital," Kurt shouted.

"Yeah, no shit, Kurt," Santana told him as her pain started to subside.

"We're going, we're going. We just need the bag," Brittany said, inching her wife closer to the door.

"I'll take you." Kurt hopped into action, pushing Sam out of the way. Literally. He pushed him down into the nearby sofa.

"Where's the bag?" Brittany asked again.

"I have a bag," Rachel said, excitedly throwing her purse at Brittany.

"Not that bag."

"I have a travel pack of Whoopsies in there," Rachel told her. "You're all set."

"This is not the bag I need!" Brittany tried to give it back.

"No, no," Santana swiped it. "Keep the damn bag. We can probably put at least one kid through college with this bag."

"I'll get her hospital bag," Maribel stated, making a move for the closet. "I know where it is."

"Yes, good," Santana said. "Mami will get the bag. Papi and Britt will help me get outside." Santana started directing traffic, "Jamie, you're in charge of Max."

"On it!" Jamie departed to get the boy.

"Thanks," Santana told her sister-in-law while passing Rachel's bag back off to Brittany. Brittany promptly dumped Rachel's things out in the floor.

"I've got a stopwatch!" Sam told them all after he recovered from being knocked off his feet. When he received several confused stares, he added, "For timing contractions."

"I've got the doughnuts," Papa Pierce announced as he darted toward the kitchen.

"Dad," Brittany said. "I'm not sure-"

"Just let him get the damn doughnuts. Otherwise he'll be a nervous wreck," Susan interrupted. "Let's move, people. This baby's a-coming."

"Okay," Maribel returned and presented Santana's birth bag. "Everybody stay calm."

Brittany took it and began to repack everything into Rachel's bag. "We've got the bag!"

Five minutes and a contraction later, they were all standing outside.

"No," Santana said for the fourth time. She gritted her teeth through the pain, "Not a chance."

"It's the best option," Brittany argued as they stood outside Rachel's limo, which was blocking all of the vehicles in the driveway.

"We're going in the limo," Brittany said flatly. She opened the door and tossed in the bag . "Come on."

"I've got some industrial plastic," Rachel said as she snapped at Figgins.

"Why do you have-" Susan started, but then realized. "Ohh...the drugboat incident."

"Can we not bring that up right now?" Brittany asked her mom. "It's not the time."

"When is the right time to bring a high seas, low speed chase featuring the Coast Guard?" Kurt asked corralling the best he could.

"Not now!" Brittany said with a dirty look.

"Let it go," Maribel scolded everyone.

They waited until Figgins did a quick roll of the plastic across the back seat before Rachel waved them toward the doors, "Everybody in."

Another two minutes and Sam was the first to realize they weren't moving, "Why aren't we going anywhere?"

"Figgins?" Rachel called over the limo intercom.

"The route is being generated," Figgins said back.

"Being generated?" Sam asked. He knocked on the partition, "Open up!"

As soon as they window lowered, Sam passed off his stopwatch to Kurt. He crawled through a pushed Figgins out of the driver's seat. "I'll drive, I know the quickest way!"

Sam got acclimated to the car as fast as possible and then screamed like a girl when he looked to the passenger seat. "Oh, hi Beiste. I had no idea you were there."

"I never ever leave Ms. Berry," Beiste said seriously.

"Then hang on."

Sam threw the car in reverse, backing up into the neighbor's yard. The stretch limo hit Old Man Wilson's garden gnome. The contact must have made the trunk pop open and seeing an opportunity to get back into the action, Figgins jumped in right before Sam put it in drive and took off down the street. He may have knocked over a trash can and nicked a mailbox, but they were on their way.

"Would anybody like a drink?" Rachel offered once they were on the road. She pointed to the limo's mini bar. "I'll be serving until we arrive at the hospital."

"Would anybody like a snack?" Papa Pierce asked as he held up his box of doughnuts. "I'll be eating until we arrive at the hospital."

Santana, who was recovering from yet another contraction, inspected her surroundings. "Brittany," she said.

"Three minutes apart," Kurt reported. "Three minutes everyone."

"I'm so excited," Abuela said with a huge smile, taking Roberto's hand.

"Britt," Santana said again as she did another pass at all the faces in the limo.

"Yeah, baby?" Brittany asked.

"Max."

Now Brittany was looking, "Oh shit!"

"Where's Max?" Santana said with more urgency.

"Where _is_ Max?" Rachel pondered as she took another drink of her tiny pre-mixed Cosmo from her collapsible cocktail glass.

Brittany tried climbed over Rachel to get to the intercom button. "He has to go back!"

"Wait, where's Jamie?" Paul noticed there was another absence.

"Oh, thank God," Santana remembered. "Jamie has him."

"We're terrible parents," Brittany told her wife. "And now we're going to have two..Hee hee hoo...Oh my god, what have we done?"

"He's okay," Susan assured them as she held up the phone she was using to text Jamie. "She said she had just made it to the front door when the limo took off. Max refused to put on any clothes. Also, somebody needs to let Figgins out of the trunk at some point."

"Terrible parents," Brittany said again. She then did a double take, "Who's in the trunk?"

"Just Figgins," Rachel dismissed it. "He can let himself out."

"It's okay, Bri-aahhh!" Santana clutched at her midsection.

"Less than three minutes, people!" Kurt said.

"Okay, this is all escalating really quickly!" Brittany said with wide eyes.

"It's perfectly fine if you need to give birth in my limo," Rachel said nonchalantly. "I've got some bar towels and Beiste is a certified midwife."

The partition of the limo rolled down at that moment, "I brought my forceps," Beiste said nonchalantly.

"We'll let you know," Rachel called to her. "Roll your sleeves up just in case."

"I'm not-ahh, hoo, ahh-giving birth in your-ahh-damn limo," Santana told her as she battled through the contractions.

"Squeeze my hand," Brittany told her. When she did, Brittany squealed, "Ow, ow, you're breaking my hand!"

"Breathe through it," Maribel said as she patted her daughter's back.

"I am breathing!" Santana yelled.

"Me, too!" Brittany shouted.

When she felt a bit better, Santana told them, "I'm not giving birth in this limo. My daughter is going to think she's a Kardashian."

"Or worse...one of those Pitt kids," Rachel said, tipping back her second drink. "But personally, I don't think you have to worry about it, dressed like that."

"Shut up before I make him pull this limo over!" Santana glared.

"He can't pull over," Roberto barked. "We don't have time."

"Just calm down," Rachel told Santana. "Have a drink or something. It'll take the edge off."

Before the response that was right on the edge of the pregnant woman's tongue, they were slowing to a halt. Sam rolled right up to the entrance of the hospital and jogged back to open the door. What he didn't know is that Kurt was already on that task. He flung open the door. Poor Sam never saw it coming and was knocked on his ass for the second time.

"Lady giving birth here!" Kurt broadcasted. "Need some medical assistance!"

The limo had definitely drawn some attention, but the not the kind he wanted. A mix of interested parties had gathered around talking about who might be in the fancy car.

Santana, herself, was blocked in by Brittany. Brittany was blocked in by Rachel. And, unfortunately, Rachel wasn't ready to get out quite yet.

"I just saw some cell phone flashes," Rachel tried to get a look at how big the audience was.

"Move, bitch," Santana screamed at her.

"I'm not even camera ready," Rachel complained.

"Rachel!" Susan had had about enough. "Get out!"

"Now!" Paul demanded as he shoved a half-eaten doughnut in his pocket.

Brittany caught him, "Dad!"

"Rachel!" Kurt yelled at her from outside the vehicle.

"Kurt!" Sam complained, dusting himself off.

Suddenly the other door opened and Beiste was there hefting Santana out.

"Beiste!" she exclaimed.

"San!" Brittany's attention was shifted back to her wife.

The bodyguard was not to be stopped, though. She carried Santana right in past the sliding doors. Brittany tumbled in right behind them, clutching the new birth bag.

"There's a baby a-coming," Beiste told some nurses gathered. "I can scrub in if you'd like."

"I would not like!" Santana made it very clear, very loudly.

#####

"This is torture!" Santana squealed at the end of another contraction. "This kid is some kind of fucking ninja voodoo monster."

"I know it hurts," Brittany held Santana's hand with both of hers at the side of her hospital bed. "But our daughter is probably not a ninja monster."

"Of course not. I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the brunette breathed. "But she's definitely a Lopez. I can tell by the tantrum."

Brittany kissed her knuckles, "That's a good thing, honey."

"Mrs. Lo-oh-pez?" a woman practically skipped through the door. "How are you, prospective mother?"

Santana glanced over to Brittany who shrugged in return.

"I'm ready to get this baby out of me," Santana answered.

"Oh, I bet," the woman gave her a toothy grin. "I'm Molly...Nurse Molly. I'll be your delivery nurse."

"Do you want a cookie?" Santana asked.

"Or a doughnut," Brittany added after a beat. "My dad has doughnuts in his pocket."

"Oh no," Nurse Molly patted her stomach, "I'm dieting. I'm just here to check it out down there," she said.

"You did not just..."

"She did, she totally did." Brittany said, eying the nurse.

A minute later, Molly's head appeared above Santana's gown. "You're looking good in there! Nice and dilated. She should be here anytime. It's a great night for delivering baby! You're going to love it, such a great experience. You'll feel so much like a woman." And very much to Santana and Brittany's surprise, Nurse Molly followed it up with a very robust impression of Aretha Franklin, "Yooooo make meee fee-eel like a nat-ur-al woooo-man, yeah!"

"Make her stop," Santana said to Brittany, the danger in her tone evident.

"Thanks Nurse Molly," Brittany said politely.

"Go away, Nurse Molly," Santana said less politely.

"I will for now, but I'll be right back," Molly said with some oomph and a shoulder wiggle.

"What the fuck was that?" Santana asked soon as the woman left the room.

"I have no idea," Brittany answered. She climbed up on the bed and wedged herself behind her wife. "How 'bout I rub your back?"

"Yes, please."

Brittany rested her chin on Santana's shoulder as she trailed her hands up and down her back, "I love you."

"I love you, too."

"You know what?"

"What?"

"I think our kids are really really lucky."

"That goes without saying."

Brittany pressed her lips against Santana's neck for a quick kiss. "I mean, because...well, they'll get to be with you...all the time."

Santana peered up at her. "You're okay with that?"

"Of course, I'm okay with it," Brittany answered. "I'm doing really well at work-"

"Understatement."

"-Aaannd we're still sitting on the Rachel Berry severance package-"

"And earning interest."

"I'm absolutely okay with it," Brittany smiled broadly. "I think it's great. Don't get me wrong, Manny the manny is awesome. But..."

"We'd both feel better about them being at home...with one of us."

"Exactly," Brittany agreed. "And maybe Rachel and Kurt will finally be able to talk you into taking your job back?"

"We're not moving."

"Who said anything about moving?" Brittany said. "You can do just about anything from anywhere. Being Rachel's publicist with the option to turn her off sounds kinda perfect."

Santana nodded, "You're right about that."

"You have plenty of time to think about it."

"Yea-aaahh!" Santana clutched Brittany's thighs. "Holy mother of shit!"

"Keep breathing through it, honey," the blonde jumped into supportive partner mode. "You're doing great. So good, San."

"How. The. Hell. Was this so much easier for you?"

"It wasn't easier for me," Brittany stated.

"Yeah, right," Santana seethed. "You just popped Max out like...you were...coring an apple."

"Coring an apple?"

"I'm busy trying to give birth," Santana told her. "I'm not exactly on my game."

"I hear a very excitable mother to be," Nurse Molly said upon reentry. "How's it going, ladies?"

"Oh, everything's fucking awesome!" Santana sneered. "I'm having a great time. Ahhh-mazing. "

"Good suggestion," Nurse Molly said as she studied the monitors. "A-mazing grace, how swe-et the sound-"

"No!" Santana stopped her. "Absolutely not. No."

"San," Brittany tapped Santana's shoulders. "Don't get worked up."

"Your wife is right, you really shouldn't. We have to keep your blood pressure under control," Molly said sincerely. Then she added in tune, "Un-der pres-sure."

Santana growled while Brittany held tightly around her shoulders. "It's not too much longer."

"If I wanted a soundtrack to this particular event, I'd let Rachel sing all her favorite theme songs while Beiste delivered the baby in the limo."

"I do believe that's the lesser option."

"Brittany, I know you totally get this. I know you were in this position before, okay," Santana said. "But there is a human being trying to escape my womb right now, and if Nurse Molly tries to start a sing-along one more time, I'm going to kill her with my bare hands."

"Let's not do that," Brittany said.

"I'm going to."

"No, you're not."

"Ohhhhhh...Sugar pie, honey bunch," Molly sang.

Santana lunged at her as much as she possibly could, "I'm gonna get ya!"

"Molly, you in danger, girl," Dr. Tibideaux told her nurse as she burst into the room. After a check, she looked up at Santana. "You're almost there. Just a little bit longer."

"Dammit!" Santana hissed.

Half an hour later, she wished she could go back. "I'm going to fucking kill you for this!" she screamed as she gripped her wife's shirt.

"I'm sorry, baby," Brittany whispered. "I love you so much."

"I'm really starting to question that."

Santana had been pushing for what seemed like forever and she didn't seem to making a whole lot of progress.

"Without drugs," she said through clenched teeth. "I blame you," she glared at Brittany.

"You can blame me all you want, honey," Brittany told her.

"Good," Santana said. "Because I do."

"I know."

"And I will for-ev-er."

"That's fine." Brittany was using her most soothing voice. "But right now, let's push, okay."

"Oh my god," Santana took another deep breath. "I can't, I can't."

"You can," Brittany held tight to her hand. "You can do it, San."

"Bri-itt, don't make me," Santana whined.

"It's too late for that."

"Alright, Santana," Dr. Tibideaux said calmly.

"I can't!"

"Santana Lopez, you're gonna have this baby," Nurse Molly screamed in her face. "You best start pushing, girl. Push it! Push it go-od!"

"Fucking hell," Santana gave in. "Anything to make you stop."

"Bear down!" Brittany shouted in encouragement. "You can do it. You're amazing. Go for the gold!"

"The baby's crowning, Santana," Dr. Tibideaux announced from between her legs.

Brittany took the few steps to get a look, "Oh sweet jesus, there's the head!"

"Bri-itt!"

"She has your hair!" Brittany said, eyes wide. "Shorter, but still. A pixie cut maybe."

Santana reached for her wife, "Come here."

"Okay, okay," the blonde rushed back to hold Santana's hand. "I'm here. I'm here. Keep pushing."

"Ahhhhh-I'm fucking pushing!"

"We've got shoulders," the doctor relayed.

"She has shoulders!" Brittany said happily.

Agonizing moments later, Santana was relieved to hear the first cries of their baby girl.

"Oh my God, San," Brittany couldn't keep the wide smile off her face. "She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen...well, except for the blood and mucus."

"You want to cut the cord, Mommy?" Dr. Tibideaux asked.

"I would love to!" Brittany said.

"I cut the cord," the blonde told Santana as they both watched the nurse clean and wrap up the baby like a burrito.

In no time, she was in Santana's arms. "Oh wow," she said.

"Look at what you did," Brittany said through tears. "She's gorgeous, Santana."

"She is. A nice set of lungs, too," Santana commented on her cries. "And we already know she's quite the dancer."

"She's already a triple threat," Brittany smiled.

#####

"We should have heard something by now," Susan said as she paced the length of the waiting room.

Paul grabbed her by the hand as she passed, "Have a seat."

When she did, Maribel tapped her knee, "Soon."

Despite the comforting gesture towards Brittany's mother, she clutched at Roberto's hand even tighter. He gave her a reassuring smile and repeated her word, "Soon."

"You really think?" Sam asked. "I hope so."

When Brittany appeared, everyone automatically stood.

"It's a girl!" she announced. "She's perfect. San's perfect. Both are healthy and perfect and beautiful!"

"Yesss!" Sam shouted above the din of the room. "It's before midnight, I won the pool. Pay up suckas!"

"Shut it, Shaggy," Rachel punched him in the arm.

The first person Brittany could get to was her mom, who she hugged tightly. "I have a daughter," she whispered.

"Congratulations, sweatheart," her mom said. A second later she felt the unmistakable arms of her father circling her as well.

"Is Jamie bringing Max?" she asked.

"On her way," her father answered.

"Good," Brittany smiled at him before looking for Maribel. She met her mother-in-law's eyes and gave her a reassuring nod. "They're both fine. She was amazing. And the baby...is..." Brittany swallowed the lump in her throat, "You should all be able to see the baby soon."

She soon found herself in the middle of a Lopez family hug.

"Does she have a name yet?" Abuela asked.

"We still haven't decided."

"You have to name her!" Santana's grandmother scolded her.

"That's our first order of business, Abuela," Brittany promised.

"The important thing is that she's healthy," Roberto reminded his mother.

#####

"She's beautiful," Susan beamed through the nursery window. "Isn't she beautiful?"

"She is," Paul agreed as he gave Brittany a one-armed hug. "Congratulations."

"Thanks Dad," she said as she wiped a tear from her eye.

Roberto put his hand on her other shoulder, "She looks just like Santana as a baby."

"She really does," Maribel agreed.

"She's really something," Sam said as he studied her through the window. When he saw Kurt's reflection, he gave him a slight smile. "This is really cool."

"Did they make you take the oath?" Kurt asked.

Sam nodded, "Yeah."

"I guess we'll both be a part of this family for a long time, then."

"I hope so," Sam said.

"Me, too," Kurt said to him. He leaned forward just a little to catch a glimpse of Rachel, "Hey."

When she turned to him, he could see the tears streaming down her face.

"Oh, Rach," he chuckled, holding his arms out. "Come here."

"I can't help it," Rachel said, accepting the hug. "She's so gorgeous. She looks just like a royal baby, except she's wearing a cheap hospital beanie and had no armed guards. Best of all, I get to be her fairy godmother."

#####

"You are going to be loved so much, little girl," Santana told her daughter as she slept on her chest. "By me, by your Mommy, by your big brother, and by your whole crazy family. You'll meet the rest of them later. They're pretty great, but don't tell them I said that. Especially Rachel. You'll meet her, too. She'll probably introduce herself as your fairy godmother. I'm sorry about that."

"Hey," she heard a quiet voice coming from outside the hospital room. She smiled her full dimply smile when she saw it was Brittany.

"Speaking of your Mommy," Santana whispered to the baby, "she's back. Yay!"

"And I brought someone." Brittany stepped into the room, carrying Max. "He wanted to say 'hi' to his little sister."

"Hi Max," Santana waved the baby's arm a little. "Come on in."

Max gave her a bright smile and waved back. "Hi."

"You want to see Momma?" Brittany asked.

He nodded shyly.

"Switch?" Brittany asked when she approached the bed.

"Yeah," Santana held out their baby girl for her as she placed Max on the edge.

"Be careful with Momma," Brittany reminded him. He leaned up just a little as the baby got handed off, curious to see his sister's face. "What do you think? Do you like her?"

"Uh huh," Max answered. He held out his hand to touch her, but stopped just short. He looked at Brittany to make sure it was okay.

"Check it out," Brittany took Max's hand and moved it so the baby could wrap her hand around his finger. "Cool, huh?"

"Coo," he smiled.

Santana smoothed down his hair in the back, "Did your Aunt Jamie let you pick out your clothes?" she asked as she got a good look at him.

"He put up quite a fight," Brittany filled her in.

Santana pulled him back to sit next to her. She gave him a kiss on his head, "Max, we've got to conquer this clothes issue."

"Maybe he finds them restrictive."

"Maybe so," Santana said. "But we can't be the parents that let our kid flash the neighborhood."

"So what," Brittany shrugged.

Santana let it go as she hugged her son and watched her wife get acquainted with their new daughter.

"She's amazing, Santana," Brittany said as she bit her trembling lip. "You're amazing."

"So is he," Santana ruffled Max's hair. "So are you."

The little family moment was broken up when Brittany's phone started to ring. She took a frustrated breath, "I meant to turn that off."

"Who is it?"

"The office," Brittany said, trying to silence the call.

"Two weeks," Santana reminded her.

"I think it's going to be a little longer," Brittany said with a smile. She finally got a hold of the device in her pocket and pulled it out.

"It's Chawlie," Max said recognizing his Mommy's Peanuts ringtone.

"You're right," Brittany said, punching the button that made the ringing stop. "It's Charlie."

"Charlie," Santana said, mostly in thought. She looked over to Brittany, "Charlie?"

Brittany took a long look at the baby, "Charlotte?"

"Classic," Santana agreed.

"It suits her," Brittany said.

"Charlotte Pierce Lopez," Santana suggested.

"No hyphens," Brittany shook her head.

"No hyphens," Santana agreed. "Pierce can be her middle name."

"Whatcha think Max?" Brittany asked. "You want to name the baby Charlie?"

Max, ever dutifully, agreed.

"Baby-naming genius," Santana gave him another smooch.

"Alright Charlie," Brittany talked to the baby as she got up. She walked to the opposite side of the hospital bed and made herself a spot next to her wife. "This is your family," she said as the four of them huddled together.

Santana hugged her son closer and laid her head on Brittany's shoulder. She brushed Charlie's cheek with her free hand, "This is our family."

############

**Thank you Alex. Thank you Reyes. Thank you Uvaack. Thank you grape koolaid.**


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